We Live in the Hearts of Those We Leave Behind
by Robin4
Summary: The sequel to Echoes in Eternity with Marcus Aurelius dead, the fate of the Empire depends upon the results of a tug of war. Unable to give up what he believes is his right, Commodus will stop at nothing to gain the throne. Please R&R.
1. Prologue

We Live in the Hearts 

We Live in the Hearts of those We Leave Behind

The (Little) Author's Note:

(and Disclaimer)

First and foremost, they're not mine.I only wish they were."Gladiator" and its characters are the property of Dreamworks.I'm only playing with the toys, Mom, and I'll put them away when I'm done.Neatly, too – I promise.

This is the sequel to my story, "Echoes in Eternity."If you haven't read that, I suggest you do so first, but if you really don't want to, suffice it to say that this is an alternate universe which "Echoes" set up for me to play in.All else spoils the story.Oh, by the way, if you like Quintus, this is a good one for you.

**Please R+R and let me know what you think**.I have lots of other ideas, so let me know if I should keep going.

Strength and Honor.

Robin 

[madwookie@prodigy.net][1]

[www.felixlegions.com][2]

Prologue:

The room was full of silent onlookers, but only two hovered near the bed.The old man forced a smile for his family; his goodbyes to his daughter and grandson were done, as were those to his estranged son, who stood far away, his back to the wall and avoiding all gazes that turned his way.Not far away, a handmaiden led young Lucius from the room, aware that the end was near, and grandson of greatness or no, the boy was not yet nine.Only the hardest words were left to be said to his true son, the man he had inherited, adopted, and embraced, though the two were tied by no blood.For a moment, the old emperor reflected upon what might have been had Commodus, the distant and dark shadow backed against the wall, had sat at his bedside, but then shuddered at the thought.Rome would die for him…

"Marcus?" his heir asked worriedly, concern creasing his handsome features.They both knew it would not be long, it could not be long, now.Even the inevitable could only be delayed so much.Weakly, Aurelius reached out to touch the general's cheek; a solitary tear was warm to his touch.He smiled; now, there were no regrets, save that he had no more time to spend with them.

"How many times," he mused quietly, "have you said that 'what we do in life echoes in eternity'?"A slight smile touched the younger man's saddened face as the emperor continued."I see that now…and you are my legacy, Maximus.You will be great."

Maximus seemed to force a smile, barely controlled emotion rushing across his face, but the emperor knew him well.He was more than ready for this challenge.The dream lived on within him.

"I will miss you," the younger man finally choked out, uncharacteristic emotion filling his voice.Their eyes met, one set old and weary, the other young and alive – although both were saddened by what each knew must come, years of love and loyalty passed between them.Time had wrought many changes in their world, but not this; never this.

Wordlessly, they embraced, holding each other one last time.Years of trust, dependence, and emotion surfaced for a final breath of life before drowning, and the emperor and his heir held on tightly, knowing there would never be a second chance.Between them, then, a vision passed."Lead well, my son," the old man whispered.

In his ear, the sorrowful reply came."Thank you for everything… Father."

A smile again touched the wrinkled features, and then froze as the breath went out and the Marcus Aurelius went still for all time.Despite raging emotions, the strong arms did not falter as they laid the old dreamer back upon the pillows.Trembling fingers reached out to close the still open eyes.

Wordlessly, Maximus bent to place the ritual farewell kiss upon the slack forehead.Tears blurred his vision momentarily, as he realized that the future was his alone."Father…" he whispered one last time, then rose to gently wrap his arms around his wife, whose tears flowed as heartfully as his own.Together, they stood, oblivious to the shadows filing out of the room.From that moment on, both knew that their world, and the dream, was theirs' alone.

   [1]: mailto:madwookie@prodigy.net
   [2]: http://www.felixlegions.com/



	2. They Fought for You... And for Rome

They fought for Rome:

We Live in the Hearts of those We Leave Behind Part One:"They Fought For You… They Fought for Rome"

A mummer of surprise echoed through the marble Senate chambers, but Commodus continued anyway."Gentlemen, let us not be dense.I am my father's son.I have been raised to fulfill the station of Caesar and Emperor.Will you waste these years of preparation and training by accepting a man whom you hardly know?

"My father showed no sign of bypassing me until he was influenced by a general he had entrusted with far too much power.Power, Senators, corrupts, and it makes many a man ambitious."He smiled gently."As for me, of course, I cannot become more corrupt."

The gathered senators chuckled obligingly, appreciating the expert handling.When he wanted something, the young prince was indeed convincing… And he did indeed look the prince today, garbed not in armor, as was his preference, but in a fine toga of white; his only adornment was the simple crown of gold leaves upon his head.Encouraged, Commodus continued."My father's general took advantage of his trust.He abused the power he had been granted – all to gain the throne.We all know how hard it is to deny an army, especially when the men love their general…"

A long figure approached the double doors, striding forward with easy confidence, his footsteps echoing in the long marble hallway.Sunlight glittered slightly off his armor, lending his presence an undeniably god-like quality.A long, simple, cape of maroon flowed out behind him with the slight breeze created by his movements, which were smooth, with the ease of a practiced and assured warrior.He halted before the guards, looking from one to the other calmly and expectantly, waiting.Neither, however, acknowledged his presence.

"Open the doors," he said levelly, yet no quietness could conceal the command in his voice.

The soldiers stood fast, silent, trying to pretend no man stood before them.They were not Praetorians, nor of Rome's Home Guard; these two men were merely hired bodyguards, probably ex-gladiators or legionnaires.Their bearing, however, told him that it was the latter, and he'd lots of experience with soldiers.

"You will answer me, soldier," he rumbled deeply, his voice all the more dangerous for its softness.

The one whom he'd fixed with his intense gaze capitulated almost immediately.Fortunately or unfortunately, he tended to have that effect on people.Piercing eyes could accomplish much when backed by steel."We are not allowed to admit anyone, General," he replied respectfully.

Moments ticked silently by, and both guards shifted uneasily under his stare.Dangerous charisma flowed from him and filled their eyes, although there was no clear threat."I am the Emperor of Rome," he said softly."Open the doors."

"Conscript Fathers, I henceforth ask you to follow your heads, not your hearts.My father's memory is dear to us all, yet we cannot allow emotion to dictate our choices.If Rome is to prosper, Rome must be ruled by a _strong _emperor, born to rule –"

"Leaders are made, not bred," a calm voice interrupted from the entranceway."If I recall, your father was the fifth in a line of adopted emperors, chosen, not for blood, but for ability."

As one, both would-be emperor and the senate spun to face the interloper, all staring dumbly at the still, yet commanding, form.Maximus, for his part, merely strode forward calmly, his hands clapped loosely behind his back.He halted barely an arm's length from his brother in law, meeting the assembly's gazes evenly, careful not to allow the slightest hint of emotion to enter his face, save mild curiosity, fabricated to throw them off guard.This was a deadly game he was playing, and it was not necessarily one he was good at, even though he had suspected that these events would happen for a long time.Nothing, however, could have fully prepared him for it.Then again, he mused, the senate was probably as off-balance as he was.

That was the only good thing about his present situation.All else, he mused, could go to hell.

"Yet strangely enough, none of them commanded an army," Commodus observed innocently, smiling slightly to his rival.For a moment, their eyes locked, and one thought passed between the two: the world had not the space for them both.Sooner or later, the loser had to go.

Maximus allowed his gaze to burn into Commodus' for no longer than necessary.Unlike the younger man, he was not there to prove a point.He was not there to spite the prince, nor was he there simply to deny his rival what he most desired.The enmity between them had crossed and poisoned the entire time the two had known each other, but the Spaniard knew far better than to let it affect him – unlike Commodus, who was now silently gloating over his small victory.Abruptly, he tore his eyes from the fair prince and turned to the senate once more, catching the other's confused frown as he did so.Maximus allowed himself a brief moment of inner triumph; step one was accomplished, for he'd not get in a personal battle with Commodus on the senate floor.

"Gentlemen, we all come from different backgrounds.Mine happens to be in the army."Spreading his hands, palms up, in a gesture of peace, Maximus drifted forward as he spoke, more comfortable in these surroundings than he would have ever dreamed of being._Thank you, Marcus, for that._"Most of you have served your time on the front, as I have, and you understand the privilege and duty that it is to serve Rome.I have been fortunate enough to do so well.

"In any case, this is not the subject at hand today."Smoothly and unnoticeably, he circled the senate chamber, looking each member in the eyes as he moved, receiving slight nods in return from many of the men.They did, indeed, know what was at stake."Today, my brother-in-law" – he nodded slightly to Commodus as he spoke, acting far more gracious than he felt, but long months of training under Marcus Aurelius had taught him to keep his more…rambunctious nature in check – "has asked you to deny my confirmation as Emperor and chose him instead."

Carefully, he kept his eyes away from Commodus.If he didn't, Maximus knew he would never have resisted the _need_ to skewer the younger man with a death glare._Power hungry_, he thought to himself._You'd think he might have learned by now._Instead, though, he kept his peace, and allowed the silence to stretch into eternity, broken only by his footfalls on the cold marble floor.The assembled Romans did not dare speak, for to do so would be to brave the darkness that threatened to overtake their world.Abruptly, then, Maximus stopped motion and spun to face them, his voice still calm and reasonable.

"Marcus Aurelius' wishes are clear.You may not know me well, and you may not like me, but he chose me as his heir.I did not ask for this power, nor did I want this responsibility, but I am here."Only then, did he turn and allow his gaze to burn into Commodus'.

"And I will be damned if I see his dream fail."

Together, they stepped into the marble hallway outside.Black and white could not have further contrasted the two; one was flushed red in embarrassment, while the other was unreadable as a plain plaster wall.Maximus was aware that many of the praetorians called him the Iceman behind his back, yet he took perverse pleasure in that fact, at times.It was awfully useful.

At the moment, however, it just served to accentuate Commodus' feelings.The younger man could not possibly have expected to win, yet he surely had not foreseen the landside results of his plea – nearly the entire senate had voted in favor of Maximus.Only a few die-hard loyalists had sided with the young prince, for most of the men had known Commodus since childhood, and had a fair idea what type of ruler he would be.No matter how power-hungry some of the senators were, and how they yearned to control an emperor, they knew that the uncontrollable Maximus would be a far sight better than the unstable Commodus.Most had not wished for a strong emperor; they knew now that they had a strong _man_, and that his rule would likely be as such, but even those who'd wished for a weakling knew that the general would be easier to deal with than the prince.

Suddenly, but not unexpectedly, the prince stopped, barely having allowed the doors to slam shut behind them.Livid, he turned to Maximus, who merely waited for the inevitable explosion.

"This is not over," Commodus stated with surprising control.

Meeting his gaze, Maximus replied, "I'm sure it's not."  
"I will win."

"Don't do anything stupid, Commodus," Maximus replied quietly.He hated the younger man for himself, but would see no harm come to him, in the name of not the young man, but for his father.The old emperor had never asked him to promise that, but Maximus had made that pact with himself.

Marcus Aurelius' son spun to him with surprising fury."I have friends, Maximus," he hissed."I am the prince of Rome."

"And I am its Emperor," the former general replied calmly."Do not forget that."


	3. A Vision of Greatness

We Live in the Hearts of those We Leave Behind

We Live in the Hearts of those We Leave Behind

** **

** **

**Part Two: A Vision of Greatness**

Blood red wine sloshed slightly on the campaign table as Captain Tiro allowed his cup to drop unceremoniously on the wood.Cocking his head, then, he looked curiously to his colonel."Do you think they'll move?" he asked casually.

"Move?" Valerius Thrasius snorted."Not if they know what's good for them."

Tiro shrugged casually."Well, considering that most provincial governors who chose to rebel against the empire aren't very intelligent, do you think they'll move?"

"Depends."The colonel drained the remainder of his drink in one, long gulp."I know Niger ain't the sharpest man Rome ever bred, but I would have taken him to be more intelligent than this.After all, he's both a soldier and a politician; the first means he knows what he's getting into, and the second says that he knows that Rome actually likes our new emperor."Valerius returned Tiro's shrug with his own, then added."Now, I may be rather drunk at the moment, but it seems to me as if there's something fishy going on here."

"You're probably right," the captain agreed.

"I hate fish," Valerius groused in reply, and they laughed together before the older man turned serious and continued."To answer your question, I think they might, unless the general – excuse me, the emperor – can convince them the folly of doing so.Either way, I think that this will be concluded within a week or two."

"Why's that?"

"Because the emperor does not have the patience for anything longer than that," Valerius replied."And if _I_ figured out that something's wrong with this situation, Maximus sure as hell has."

Outside, the sun of southern Italia sank beneath the horizon, leaving only reds and golds to adorn the sky in its wake.Under the waning light, though, a lone, weary figure strode toward the Imperial tent network, stopping only to consult with the praetorians stationed at the entrance to the courtyard the three connecting tents enclosed.Both guards nodded respectfully to the shadowy figure, and moved aside to let him pass.

"Sire?" a voice drifted from the shadows in the tent's entranceway, but empty silence greeted it."Caesar?"

Only the light scratching of a pen on parchment echoed through the stillness, and the general shifted uneasily from one foot to the other.Oh, he was observant enough to know that his old friend was inside, and intelligent enough to know that he was being ignored; the only question was why.After all, he had been _sent_ for, and reason led to believe that he was more or less expected.Irritated, he finally hissed, "_Maximus!_" 

The pen never stopped moving as he queried, "Yes?"

"You sent for me, sire?"The impatience in Quintus voice spoke the lengths to which he was unwilling to go.The words he meant, but did not dare say, clearly amounted to the _…And you're ignoring me because…?_

"I heard you the first time.I merely chose to ignore you until you had something useful to say," Maximus replied evenly, then looked up and quirked a smile.He gestured to a chair in front of his desk."Sit down, Quintus."

Hesitating only slightly, his old friend moved from the entranceway and dropped into the offered seat.Taking a split second to study him before continuing, Maximus frowned inwardly at Quintus' discomfort and embarrassment.He'd not seen the older man for over a year now, and though much had happened in that time, Maximus preferred to think that he hadn't changed all that much.Nor, he suspected, had Quintus changed, but that was hardly the point… The world had changed, and that clearly made the general uneasy.Sighing, Maximus looked his old friend straight in the eye, determined to get the necessities over with.

"How long have we known each other?" he asked abruptly.

"Almost sixteen years –"

Maximus cut the other man off before he could continue, and add the honorific that he so did not want to hear."Half my life," he pointed out."Almost half of yours.We have dug trenches in the freezing mud side by side.We have fought with each other and beside each other.We have bled together.We have nearly _died_ together more than once.So if you call me by my first name, no one is going to kill you."He arched an eyebrow to drive the point home."Correct?"

"Caesar, I –"

Aggravation nearly blossomed into full-blooded fury, but Maximus clamped down on his temper."Enough!" he snapped, and saw Quintus jerk back in surprise as he rose and began to pace around the room."I am sick and tired of this over-cautious form of flattery.If my best friend can not treat me like a normal human being, then who can?"

Quintus turned toward him, meeting his angry and challenging gaze evenly."_Maximus_," he said quietly, intentionally stressing his first name and bringing a stormy frown to the emperor's face."You _are_ the Emperor of Rome."

Suddenly cold once more as his habit of control asserted itself, Maximus looked to his old friend, feeling acute disappointment for his inability to be understood.In the beginning, way back in Germania, he had known he would hate being the most powerful man in Rome.He'd never thought he could despise it this much."And I am just a man," he pointed out softly, crossing his arms."Emperor or no, just a man.I imagine it's easy to forget that, in this world of flattery and hero-worship in which we live, but _I_ _will not._One thing that Marcus Aurelius taught me was that no matter what you see on the outside, an emperor is the same as every other man on the inside.

"But to remain like that, to remember that, a good emperor needs people who will tell him when he is wrong, who will tell him when he had made a mistake, and above all, will remind him that he is not a god.That he is not perfect – that he _is just a man_.He needs people willing to treat him normally.I did that for Marcus.I need you to do that for me."

Quintus' eyebrows rose, but he seemed at a loss for words, so Maximus continued, as he reseated himself, his fury gone, but intensity remaining."When I left the North, a little over a year ago, we were friends.I would like to believe that we still are.All I am asking is that you remember that I am the same man who stood beside you there."

Their eyes met, and the older man took a deep breath."You don't ask for much, do you?"

Maximus snorted."Hey, at least it's not you in this chair."

Despite himself, Quintus chuckled."No kidding," he replied, then turned serious."I would never want it."

The Emperor of Rome looked him in the eye."Neither did I."

Gaius Pescennius Niger looked to his second in command, Marcus Antonius Gordianus, and tried not to look irritated.The younger man was clearly the darling of their troops, yet Niger could not shake the idea that there was something wrong with him… Twenty-four years old, handsome, and unfailingly loyal, Gordianus was all a governor could ask for in a quaestor, but sometimes Niger wondered if he was ambitious as well.Actually, the governor knew full well of Gordianus' ambitions, but he figured that could be dealt with in time – after all, if their attempt _did _succeed, the younger man had every reason to believe he would be named Niger's heir, since the governor had no sons of his own, and his only eligible male relative, a scrawny and scholarly nephew with no world outside of his books, was definitely in his uncle's disfavor.

At the moment, though, Gordianus was not earning any brownie points in his governor's book.He was fretting. He was drinking too much.And he was nervous.

Niger hated nervous subordinates.

"What is it now?" Niger demanded, then without waiting for a reply, gestured angrily to the couch across from his own."Sit down, Marcus, before you have a heart attack."The younger man sat obediently, and again reached for his drink.The governor, however, beat him too it, and kept the cup well out of Gordianus' reach."Well?What is bothering you?"

"Nothing, really…" the quaestor trailed off."It's just that I did not expect him to act so _quickly_.Our plans said we could be in Italia before they had arrayed troops to meet us."

_So it's _this _again,_ Niger fumed silently._Doesn't he understand that no battle plan survives contact with the enemy?So they acted faster than we thought they could.So what?Now we just have to change our plans a bit.Not a problem._

But something inside him felt that it was.

Something was wrong.

"In the long run, Marcus, it does not matter where we meet them.It only matters that we win," he reminded his second-in-command.

"Yet our scouts say that the pretender is in Rhegium already, and we have yet to cross into Italia at all.From where they are, they can stop our crossing, and we could be stuck here in Sicilia."Again, Gordianus shifted nervously, but refrained from rising once more.

"They cannot possibly stop us under the cover of darkness, Marcus Antonius," Niger pointed out quietly, explaining the situation patiently, as he might have to an especially slow child.Damn, if Gordianus did not remind him of one at times…"That is why we leave tonight."

The nervousness disappeared as if a giant hand had suddenly swept it from the younger man's mind, and he smiled appreciatively as he considered his commander's talents."They will never expect us to move so soon," he said in quiet awe.

Niger forced himself to smile."That's why we are," he said aloud, but inside, he was thinking: _If we don't move, Messana will become a death trap for my army, because Gordianus is right; if they block our crossing, we're stuck here, and I will not endanger these people.Unlike me, they are innocent._

Four hours later, from the bow of the merchant ship, _Isis_, Sicilia's governor watched the waves roll over her carved wooden prow, and tried to quiet the matching rocking in his gut.Intellectually, he knew that he had no choice but to cross now – first, because he could not allow himself to be trapped on Sicilia, where he could do no more than restrict Rome's grain supply, which would be only a pinprick of an annoyance to the Empire at best; and second, because crossing now gave him the element of surprise.It was a short journey between Italia and her sister island, and night had just fallen, which would allow his men an ample amount of rest before they struck out to face their own countrymen – 

That thought brought a frown to his face.His men were loyal, yes; but their first loyalty was to Rome.Yes, they loved him, yet they were old legions, the 7th and 8th Gemina, and they had served Rome well in their time.Most of the men were veterans of Lucius Verus' Parthian campaign, and that meant they could have hardly forgotten what it was like to serve an emperor…And some would probably even know the man whom Niger was trying to oust.

Another frown creased his features.Rumors of the succession conflict in Rome had reached Sicilia quickly, and had run rampant once they had arrived.Somehow, the small island had missed the news that Marcus Aurelius' chosen successor was one other than his son, so it came as a great shock to hear of the political war waged between Commodus and his father's popular general.What worried Niger, though, was the fact that those rumors had died off.While they had heard of the Senate's conformation of Maximus, Niger had heard nothing further, except that the young general still had many enemies in Rome who were more than willing to accept an alternative leader – so long as it was not Commodus.

A senator himself, and proconsul, Niger had never tried to hide his ambitions.In fact, they had been well enough known that his old acquaintance and colleague – never, though, a friend – Marcus Didius Julianius Falco, had written to him, telling him of the problems in Rome and specifically the eagerness of his "allies" – who he did not name, of course – to find another man to occupy the throne. While Niger was not willing to trust Falco any further than he could throw him, he did know that the other man had excellent political contacts, and knew the empire and its senate well.And Niger was in a position to do something about the chaos… And make himself emperor while he was at it.

Suddenly, he chuckled to himself._To end the chaos gripping our dear empire…_ Yes, that was a good sounding motive, but the governor had no wish to fool himself.He was moving on Rome now, not because he wanted to _fix_ anything, but because he had a craving for power.Long had he watched the throne, waiting and holding his breath, knowing that Marcus Aurelius was too strong and too popular to successfully oppose – and, in a moment of truth, Niger would have admitted his own loyalty to the man.Aurelius had been…different from any other ruler Rome had ever known.Niger had always known he could never have rebelled against the man, yet he'd also been secure in the knowledge that he would outlive the old emperor.Now, though, the old emperor was dead, and there was no rule stating that the his heir had to be the one he chose… Or, Niger reflected, at least there was no rule specifying that the chosen heir had to last long.

"They move, Sire!"

Even as the young scout entered the tent, Quintus' jaw dropped open as Maximus turned to him with a grin that simply stated, _I told you so!_"They come…" he mused, trailing a the tip of a dagger over the map."So we meet them… here."

His officers stared at where the dagger had halted."That's just off the coast," Valerius pointed out."We don't have the time to get there before they do, Sire."

Inwardly, Maximus winched at his old friend's formality, but knew he had no choice, so did not complain."We don't need to," he replied."Niger will land and set up camp.By dawn, we _will _be there, though, and waiting for him."

Slow smiles spread across the men's faces at his words, and he knew what they were thinking…_Thank the gods that some things never change._

"Let's move."

As dawn broke over the tip of Italia's "boot," Niger's two legions awoke.Within moments, though, the alarm went out – they were _surrounded._Niger rushed out of his command tent, only half dressed, to encounter a panicked corps of officers, but even then, his eyes were scanning the semi-dark horizon, noticing the standards of the four legions facing him, and reality drove the point home.Not only was he surrounded, boxed in with his back to the ocean, but he was also outnumbered two to one.

And there was no way out.

_No way out._

Sudden heaviness weighed down on his soul, and he realized that almost eleven thousand deaths would be on his hands by the time the sun set over the empire he had wished to rule.Ambitious he had always been, yes, but Niger loved his country.He had never wished for _this_… Never had he wanted to lead his own country to certain death, all in the name of foolish ambition and grandiose dreams.The governor merely blinked, though, knowing more reaction would be disheartening for his men and trying to present a confident front for those who had so loyally followed him, but he knew it was useless.He'd never been a miracle worker, and the gods certainly weren't going to grant him that ability today.

A hand grasped his arm, and Niger felt it shaking in the face of his own inhuman calm.They were already dead.Gordianus just didn't know it yet. "What do we do, General?" the younger man gasped.

"What we have to, Marcus," Niger replied."We do what we have to do."

"Valerius!"

"Sire?" his infantry commander replied immediately, suddenly at his side.Maximus smiled slightly in private amusement – it still sounded strange to be addressed as such – but spoke without letting his eyes leave the enemy camp.

"Send a messenger to Governor Niger," Maximus said evenly."I want to speak to him."

"Yes, sir."Valerius turned away, but suddenly the emperor's head snapped around to follow the colonel's back, his mind working furiously.His men were arrayed in a large semi-circle, with him at the center, and it gave him a perfect view of the chaos and confusion raging in Niger's camp… Perhaps there was another way.

"Belay that…" he said thoughtfully, and his colonel stopped obediently, watching him, and waiting for new orders."I have a better idea."

Niger looked up from his map as Gordianus called his name.No, rather, the younger man _screamed_ his name.Although he was fully prepared to launch into a tirade on his quaestor's lack of control, the words died on his lips as his eyes focused on the six praetorians riding into his camp…and the other man who rode with them.For if six praetorians in their black armor were not enough of a shock for any army, the man they escorted was.Although Niger had never even seen Maximus Decimus Meridius, he knew full well that the youngish man garbed in gold armor and the Imperial purple could be no other.For a moment, the governor stood silently, only staring at his adversary, who had been so audacious to ride into an _enemy _camp – 

_What a gamble, _he admitted to himself._And boy is it paying off._

Every man along the emperor's path stopped and stared, their eyes wide, nervous, and… respectful.Niger had to admit that Maximus cut a good figure, and he rode his dapple gray stallion like the warrior he had been – and clearly still was.His relative youth was a harsh contrast to the old emperor's age and frailty, but the same intensity and will burned in his otherwise calm eyes.The old instincts of a soldier lit off within the governor, and he knew that the man was a leader…and one he could never hope to surpass.Ambition, this time, would not be enough.

Motion caught the corner of his eye, and Niger's head snapped around just in time to see the first soldier – Titus Flavius, his legions' senior centurion – drop to one knee in a sign of allegiance and respect.With hardly a whisper of protest, the rest of the men followed suit as the emperor passed, leaving only Niger and his officers standing in Caesar's path.Silently, the praetorians and their emperor halted their mounts before them, and all seven men dismounted.But only the emperor moved forward, poised and cool, with a warrior's confidence.

Again, Niger simply stared, unable to act in the few eternal seconds of the emperor's approach.Life offered him two choices, but one was one that his pride would not have considered even ten minutes ago.Ten minutes ago, he had been prepared to go down fighting, trapped though he was.Ten minutes ago, surrender would not have been an option, for he'd never have believed that his army could betray him, and yet they clearly loved Maximus.His men did not have to know the emperor; they only had to know who and _what _he was – one of their own.Thus, not a one of them, Niger realized, would stand against him…or, at least, certainly not in the name of an older and ambitious, politician.

The whirlwind of his mind slowed, and stopped.Better to end this with honor, as befitting a Roman senator and general, than to fight irrationally to the end.Common sense was a very Roman virtue – Niger merely prayed that mercy was as well.For once, he was thankful that he had no family to bring down with him.

Expelling one last deep breath, Niger knelt before the emperor.Protocol only demanded that he bow, yet he was sure that Maximus would recognize the significance of the gesture.

Silence reigned long and loud, until the emperor spoke quietly."I would speak to you in private, Governor," Maximus said calmly.

Surprised, Niger came to his feet."Yes, sire."

As the governor lead the way toward his own tent, the ranking praetorian moved to follow his emperor, but Maximus glanced over his shoulder and shook his head slightly.When the praetorian frowned, the emperor softened it with a smile."Not this time, Colonel," he said softly.

Though clearly displeased, the praetorian remained behind, and once more, Niger found himself surprised.In private generally meant with praetorians in tow, he knew, and for an emperor to leave them behind when conversing with a man who had done his best to _replace _the said Caesar was…risky.Either Maximus was a fool, which he did not seem, or he felt he had nothing to fear.

The tent flap closed silently behind the emperor, and Niger turned to face him, waiting for Maximus to speak, yet studying him all the while.It was now easier to understand why men followed him, and why the Senate had acquiesced to his occupation of the throne – the man had a _presence_.He did not need to speak to radiate confidence and power.Truly, he was perhaps the most well-fitted for the role of Caesar out of those who'd held the post in the last fifty years – at least on the surface.Outwardly, he seemed ideal.But only time would tell if the strength he had shown on the field could transfer into that of a good ruler.

Finally, the Emperor spoke, his calm eyes burning into Niger's with every word."What was your aim, Governor?" he said coldly.

"Rome, sire," Niger answered truthfully, knowing that this was no time for lying.Nor, of course, did he have anything to lose by telling the truth.He would have been content to die for his country, yet to die for his own foolish ambition seemed such a sorry way to go.

"I thought as much."The younger man's voice was devoid of emotion, and his face unreadable as he continued."And what would you have done if you succeeded?"

Taking a deep breath, Niger looked the emperor in the eye."I would have ruled, Caesar."

"You have watched and waited for a long time, haven't you, Niger?"

Maximus' insight was slightly unnerving, but the governor reminded himself that this was the protégé of Marcus Aurelius…and the old man was far to wise to leave an uninformed or incompetent successor.Aside all else, Niger had respected the old man he had once called Caesar."Yes, sire," he finally replied.

Caesar nodded, but an interesting gleam entered his eyes."What made you wait?"

Averting his eyes, he told the truth that he would have admitted to very few."I would not rebel against Marcus Aurelius."

"Why not?" Maximus challenged.

"He was my emperor."

"As am I," Maximus pointed out.

"He was different," Niger snapped back, almost against his will, then added the honorific as an afterthought as he regained control of himself and wondered what such an outburst would cost him."Sire." 

Unangered, the emperor challenged him once more."You hardly know me."

"Perhaps that is the reason," the governor admitted.

"The reason," Maximus mused, his voice suddenly soft."You were loyal to Marcus Aurelius…was that because he was too popular to depose, or because of who he was?"

Again, such an insight threw the older man off-guard and forced him into telling the truth."Because of who he was," Niger admitted.

"He was a great man," the emperor said softly."And he loved Rome…As do I."Once more, his eyes met the governor's and Niger found himself unable to break away."He asked me to carry on his dream, and I will – not because I want this power, but because I have a responsibility to the Empire.And because he asked me to.

"You served him well, and you followed him, as I did, not merely because he was the emperor, but for _who _he was.You knew his goals, and you respected them.You shared them.So tell me…Can you not still serve his dream in a different form?

"I do not buy men's loyalties, but I can promise you that you won't regret it."

~~~~~ Hello again…. Part 3 is in the making.I do have a question – this, in combination with "Echoes in Eternity," is on the verge of turning into a series of its own.Anyone have an idea what to name it?

**As always, please R&R and tell me what you think.**

Robin 

[madwookie@prodigy.net][1]

[www.felixlegions.com][2]

   [1]: mailto:madwookie@prodigy.net
   [2]: http://www.felixlegions.com/



	4. Sometimes Dreams Come True

We Live in the Hearts of those We Leave Behind

We Live in the Hearts of those We Leave Behind

~~~~~ Well, here's Part 3, as promised.Part 4 is already started, and promises to be the best yet.Sorry this one took so long; I didn't expect to get access to a computer at all during this month (those of you that frequent my web page know why), so my timing tends to be a bit sporadic.Anyway, here's some more.I'll try to get Part 4 up before I leave for a week on Sunday.

**As always, please R&R and tell me what you think.**

Robin 

[madwookie@prodigy.net][1]

[www.felixlegions.com][2]

** **

** **

** **

**Part Three: Sometimes Dreams Come True**

"Senators, I did not come here to ask your permission to act.I came here simply to inform you of my intentions."Maximus' face was hard as he cut off their arguments.The past thirteen months, in which he had learned how to rule an empire the hard way, had been trying at best – and busy, to say the least.Already, he had been forced to hammer through six new laws against major opposition, stemmed, he was sure, from pure dislike for his methods rather than the laws themselves, since even the most diehard loyalist had admitted that they were long overdue, but that had been the least of his problems.In addition to that, he'd dealt with Commodus' malicious brand of politics for over two months before the prince had left the capital – something, Maximus knew, was far from permanent – and had put down a rebellion in Gaul and a solved the mess in Sicilia without bloodshed.And if that were not enough, now he had to deal with opposition to the very essence of the Roman legal system.

"You cannot execute Roman Senators without our consent!" Silavanus, one of Commodus' strongest supporters – unfortunately, though, one who had kept his nose clean, so far – objected angrily.

"I?" Maximus snarled, feeling his temper broiling beneath the surface and not really in a mood to contain it.Over the last two years, first at Marcus' side and then on his own, he had never let his temper out on the Senate floor.However, this time his patience had long flown out the window."Allow me to repeat what I said only moments ago, _Senator_.Marcus Didius Julianius Falco and Lucius Cornelius Nerva have both been convicted of treason by a Roman jury in a legally conducted trial.Surely, you, who attended the proceedings, can not argue with the conduct of the court!"

"I do not question the trial's results, I question the sentence!" Silavanus shot back.

"You may question all you wish, Senator, but it will not change a thing!" Maximus thundered before he could bite his temper back. Immediately, he regretted the words, but there was no turning back as the entire Senate roared in anger.Knowing he could not shout them down – or rather, knowing he could, but unwilling to do so and make them more angry than they already were.His trained mind had recognized the fact that he'd made a mistake, and the emperor was unwilling to compound it.

So he merely let the shouting run its course and strode toward the chamber's exit, mounting the steps, and only turning back toward the Senate as a worried hush swept over the proceedings.Maximus had been long known for his ability to wait out any amount of blustering a politician could do, and walking out was not what they expected of him.Even as he faced the assembly once more, they fell silent, watching him, and waiting, certain that this would be another time that he forced them into submission.

Unfortunately, Maximus knew that they were right.But perhaps he would not do so as…rudely as they imagined.

"Gentlemen," he began softly, "I understand your reservations and your objections.I, too, wish there were another way.But my duty is to see to Rome's security, and to ensure that any threat that faces her is vanquished.Exiling men convicted of treason will not do so – not when their goal was to overthrow all that we hold dear.

"As you have argued, life is precious."Maximus soft tone suddenly turned cold once more."These two serve as a warning, to all Rome's enemies.They carry my message – that I am not afraid to do what must be done."

Silence split the room, and finally Caesar split the silence, his voice heavy, and for the first time, hinting at emotion."I regret the necessity, gentlemen.But sometimes sacrifices must be made in Rome's name."

On the heels of that emptiness, Maximus turned and strode from the room, his heart neither heavy nor light; he had no desire to condemn men to death, but he'd long dealt with the necessity of doing so, even when he did not like it.In that respect, he reflected, it was far easier for him to do so than it was for the others in that chamber.Most, as he'd noted thirteen months ago, had served their own time in the army, but that had rarely been on the front lines.The most vast and professional army in the world needed battalions of clerks and secretaries, and prospective politicians easily filled those roles.The choice was always there, of course, and some such men chose to fight on the front, but those types were few and far between.

Therefore, their emperor had far more experience with death than they did.He had known it first hand, seen friends and family die before his eyes, even as he destroyed the enemies of his country.Some might have asked if the price was worth paying, and he did, still, in his nightmares and weaker moments, but he had long known that he had to go on.Years ago, he'd been taught that, by a man to whom he'd sworn his life...and whose dream he still chased with dogged persistence.The senators had never stared death in the eye; to them, it was a distant and gruesome concept better left alone.Maximus, though, who had stood on the brink of Elysium himself, knew that to protect the innocent, sometimes it was necessary to take the lives of the guilty.

Gentle fingers trailed its way from his belly button to his throat, then cupped his chin lightly, and Maximus opened his eyes as soft lips met his own.Smiling into the kiss, he wrapped his arms around his wife and pulled her close.For long moments, they embraced each other, simply lying together in the early morning sunlight as it drifted through the nearest window.Finally, their lips came apart, and Lucilla snuggled closer to him, burying her face in his chest.Inhaling the sweet scent of her hair, the emperor closed his eyes.

"Good morning," he whispered playfully.

She looked up at him and kissed the tip of his nose."I thought it was time you woke up."

"Did you now?"

"Or maybe I was just lonely," Lucilla replied, kissing him again, softly and not with passion, but without the rush of a young lover's embrace.

"Ah, so the truth comes out…" Maximus chuckled quietly but his tone quickly turned apologetic."I did not even notice you come in last night."

"You were exhausted," she replied easily."I understand."

Gently, Maximus kissed her cheek."Sometimes, I think that I ask you to understand too much."

"Sometimes, dear, you forget that I was the daughter of Rome long before I married you…" Lucilla smiled slightly, but though her eyes were earnest, they were also saddened ever so slightly."I know duty, my love.I know it well."

"As do I," Maximus replied, finding his voice suddenly heavy.He had never loved anyone the way he loved Lucilla, and knew no other emperor had ever allowed a wife to work so closely by their side, and yet there were times when he believed that he did not deserve the trust and the understanding she so freely gave."Though sometimes I hate it."

"I think we all do, at times."

Unable to help himself, the emperor snorted almost bitterly."I hate this job."

"You are good at it."Once more, her light fingers stroked his cheek, but he only shook his head and sighed.Then, however, the fingers on his face became not so gentle, and Lucilla forced him to turn and look in her eyes."No, you listen to me, Maximus Decimus Meridius.Like it or not, you _are _a good ruler.I suspect that history will call you great…I know I do."Again, she smiled gently, but as always there was limitless strength in her eyes."You are accomplishing what most emperors can never dream of, much less succeed in.Do not ever doubt that, my love.And do not ever doubt yourself."

"I don't."With and explosive motion, Maximus sat up in bed, shaking himself loose from her touch until she rose with him and placed a hand on his chest."I just wish your father had chosen someone else…"

Silence stole them both for a moment, for husband and wife had loved the old emperor alike.Finally, she spoke quietly."I know…and I know how hard this is for you," Lucilla said softly."But like you, my father had a duty to Rome – to pick the best man to follow him."

"I miss him," he admitted suddenly, surprising himself with the words, for even with Lucilla, he rarely allowed himself to dwell upon the past.The future was too full for that, and yet, sometimes, he really did wish for a change, any change – in all the dreams he'd had in life, ruling Rome had never surfaced.

"As do I," his wife replied, laying her head on his shoulder, and Maximus placed an arm around her as they both remembered."The people of Rome know it, too, Maximus, and they would love you for that if for nothing else, because they know you loved him."

When he raised a quizzical eyebrow, she continued."Your speech at his funeral was something even I did not think you could do.I did not think you could show that much emotion in front of strangers, because I know how your life is been.They do not know that, but what they had seen, before that, was a very controlled – and sometimes cold – man.When you opened up before all of them and told them how you loved my father, they loved you, because they knew you were telling the truth."

"I was," Maximus said heavily, remembering once more how he had tried and tried again to write an appropriate speech, and had finally succeeded, only to throw it away when standing before a million people and speak from his own heart.Snatches of his words came back to him then, but he hardly recalled the rest.For one of the few times in his life, he had opened himself completely, and though under control, as he always was, he had allowed others to see to his heart.It was not something he had done before – not around strangers, at least – but in the end, it had helped ease his grief.

"My father knew you would hate this."Lucilla looked up at him."But he knew you loved Rome more."

Finding a half-smile within himself, Maximus looked in her beautiful eyes."I never believed in anything before I believed in Rome," he whispered."He taught me to believe.In that way, I am thankful to carry on his dream…and proud that he chose me."

"Your love for him was the only reason you said yes," his wife replied."I know that.So did he.If any other man had asked, you would have laughed in their face and walked away."

"You're probably right," the emperor agreed."Maybe that is why I bear this burden so carefully – because it is his legacy, and not only because I love Rome."

Soft lips brushed against his own."And that is one of the reasons I love you so much," Lucilla whispered."Because you will not let this change who you are."

"I love you too," he whispered, feeling his heart lift once more.Only Lucilla could truly understand the hardships and the joys he carried within him, and only with her could he freely discuss things he knew would never be repeated.Not only did she mean the world to him, but she was his right hand – and his heart.Smiling, Maximus bent his head to return the kiss.

She giggled – a rare enough occurrence."Prove it," Lucilla challenged him playfully.

Still smiling, he wrapped his arms around her and flopped back against the mattress, pulling her down with him."If you insist," he whispered in her ear, and then their lips found one another again.

"You are sure you can do this?" Commodus asked the other man quietly, his dark eyebrows creasing in decision.

"Of course, Highness," his companion replied confidently."It will not be easy, but it will be done.For you – and for Rome."

A thin smile lit the prince's face.He had waited, had bided his time, had been so careful to concede a graceful defeat…It had been so hard to bite his tongue and to appear to support that _nobody_ that his father had chosen as an heir – but now it would all be worth it.His birthrate would finally be his."I thank you then," he said graciously."You will be paid as arranged – upon delivery."

"There is no need to assure me, Highness," the mercenary said."I trust in your word."

Commodus smiled, feeling truly satisfied for the first time in years – for the first time since that fateful day in Germania when his father had told him of his intentions – _How could he do that to me?Haven't I always done all he asked of me?_Inside, his mind whirled and his heart burned.He'd never understood what his father saw in one lonely, insignificant _Spanish_ general that he could not see in his own son.What was it in him that Marcus Aurelius had hated so?What was it in Maximus that the old man had loved so much more?Why did life have to be so unfair.

_I'll show you, Father,_ he thought to himself._I'll show you how wrong you were to bypass me.I'll be great, and all Rome will kneel before me._

_Including your precious Maximus._

"Last one to dinner is a rotten egg!" Lucius cried, rushing forward and barely getting the jump on his stepbrother Julius, who quickly scurried after him.

"Hey!That's not fair!"

Laughing, the two ten-year-old boys ripped down the hallway, with Lucilla and Maximus following not far behind, albeit at a more leisurely pace.They smiled to each other as they watched the two boys both had learned to call their own – but more importantly, in the past two years, the boys had learned to be brothers.Both respective parents had worried, at first, about how each son would react to the other, but their fears had been unfounded.Within months, Julius and Lucius had become all but twins.Best of all, though, was that neither had found the time to become jealous of their one year old baby sister, Serena.They were too busy playing with one another.

Slowly, the five of them had formed a family, and both boys had gained the companionship and parenting that they'd lacked throughout their early years.Maximus was partially ashamed to know that he spent far more time with his son now than ever before, even with all the traveling he did as Caesar – as much as he hated the role, he was grateful to spend more time with his rapidly growing family.In fact, it had become hard to imagine a time without Serena, Lucius, and Lucilla…and he had no desire to discover what that would have been like.Indeed, Lucius was nearly as much his son as Julius was now, for the young boy had lacked a father for nearly all his life, an experience that Maximus could well understand.He'd not ever spoken to Lucilla about it, but he'd made a silent oath to himself: Lucius would never know the loneliness he had known.

Lucilla slipped an arm around him, laying her head on his shoulder as they walked."They make it so…interesting around here."

"Don't they?" Maximus grinned, until a crash cut him off."Not again…"

"Oh dear," his wife said simultaneously.

Quickly, they moved around the corner, only to find both boys caught up in a tangle of porcelain and what used to be priceless antique vases.Husband and wife looked at their children with bewildered glances for a moment, and then turned to one another with amused smiles."Well," Lucilla continued philosophically, "I never much liked those anyway."

"Ugly," Maximus agreed, even as two guilty boys turned wide eyes to their parents.

"We're sorry," Julius spoke first.

"We didn't mean to!" Lucius agreed.

"I tripped coming around the corner," Julius added.

"And he ran into me," Lucius continued for him.

"Then we both hit the table," Julius finished.

They both smiled innocently."It was an accident.Really."

Unable to keep a stern face any longer, Maximus found himself struggling not to laugh at their unconscious collaboration.Smiling, he then reached down to help both boys to their feet."I thought we already had the discussion about running on marble floors," he said lightly.

"Dad!" both whined together, and finally, both he and Lucilla burst out in laughter.

"All right, all right!" he chuckled."I know you two are only kids.Now, I do want you to promise me you'll be a _little_ more careful next time!"

Lucius and Julius giggled together."Okay," Julius said for them both.

"We promise," Lucius finished.

"Then let's go eat dinner," Lucilla said pointedly, causing both boys to turn and grin at each other, thoughts aligned – 

But each parent grabbed a child before they could go ripping off once more.

"At a more sedate pace," Lucilla dictated.

"Mom…" Julius glared at her even as Lucius looked pleadingly at Maximus, who did not loosen his grip on the child's arm any more than Lucilla let loose Julius from her own hands.

"That's enough, you two," the emperor finally said."We are going to dinner, and we are going to do so without destroying any more of the palace.Understood?"

"Yes, Dad," both chimed together.

"It is done."The mercenary spoke quietly as dawn broke once again over Italia.His voice was quiet, and his face cloaked by shadows, but the meaning was unmistakable.

"Good."

Commodus' whisper was barely audible, but his nod was not so subtle.The prince smiled to his newest employee, outwardly portraying the gracious and noble Roman to perfection.Only someone who knew him well could have seen the long-restrained and murderous hatred behind those dark pupils, and only a close companion could have seen the tense control in every motion he made.However, the mercenary was not informed enough to guess its true meaning, and far in the darkness behind him, a single shadow moved.

The silence stretched long before the mercenary asked, "And my reward, Sire?"

Sharp and bright eyes snapped to stare maliciously at the other for a moment before Commodus regained control of himself.The would-be-emperor softened his gaze with an effort as he said smoothly, "Of course you will receive what you deserve."

The man bowed."I thank–"

The next words never made it past his lips; a sharp gurgle sounded instead as a rough hand clapped over his mouth and a knife stabbed into his back.The mercenary's body buckled, but Clodius Albinius held him tightly, and though the former praetorian was out massed by his captive, he was by far the stronger of the two, and he contained the dying man easily.Finally, all life left the mercenary and he went limp; only then did Albinius release the larger man and allow his body to slide to the floor.Then he, too, bowed to Commodus, before he walked away.

For a long moment, the young prince stared dispassionately at the body lying on his marble floor.Such sacrifices, he knew, had to be made, yet their impact upon him never changed.He often wished that he could feel for these strangers, but he found himself colder these days than he had once been.It had started in Germania, he knew, when his loneliness gave rise to a rash action he'd never have otherwise taken…_If he hadn't possessed the gall to kneel before me,_ he thought wistfully, _that never would have happened._

Then again, while I am wishing for impossibles, I might as well wish that Maximus had not walked in the room then.

In a brief fantasy, he allowed his mind to wander.Yes… then _Maximus_ would have been dead, and the mob would have worshiped Commodus – it would be his name they screamed as he reentered Rome in triumph.Everything would have been as it should be.The son of the emperor would have succeeded him; the light of Rome would have brightened as Commodus showed his people a vision like none they had ever seen before.Everything would have been _perfect_.He would have seen to that.The senate would have understood that Rome had changed; or if not, he'd have made them understand.The people needed a father; only he could provide that for them, and he would have, if that bastard Spanish general hadn't interfered.If Maximus hadn't stolen the love of his father and his sister… Everything would have been perfect if he hadn't.Everyone would have _loved_ Commodus if he hadn't.

Even Lucilla.

He missed her love.He missed her counsel.Heck, he missed just talking to her.But she'd betrayed him, just as his father had.Fortunately, that did not mean that she had to die.It only meant that she had to pay.Commodus was no fool – he knew his sister would never willingly love him again.So he would make her pay instead.He would make her pay for all the pain she had caused him.

First she would watch her _husband_ die.

There would be no quick death for Maximus.No soldier's death.No dying by the sword.There would be nothing honorable about it.Nor anything secret.No, the usurper would die a traitor's death, with all of Rome to see it in the Coliseum.That would be a fitting end to the games Commodus planned to honor his father.There would be nothing better than watching Maximus die before those who cared for Marcus as much as his son had – until the general had manipulated the kind, old, man into becoming something he was not.

Crucifixion would be too kind, even though that was how it would end.

But that would only be the end…After _one hundred and eighty _days of games.He'd fight, Commodus decided.He'd force Maximus to fight like the nobody he was.Oh, but he was good, the prince knew – after all, he'd fought the general himself, long ago – so the odds would have to be stacked.However, Commodus knew he'd enjoy having Maximus tortured.

But he'd laugh even harder as Lucilla watched.

That, he decided, would be a fitting end.

_And it will be_, he promised himself._It will be.I will receive my birthright.I will tear away from him everything that should have been mine, and I will destroy all that he loves before I am finished with him.Except Lucilla, my poor dear and misled Lucilla.Her I will spare, for I, too, will need an heir.She will move from the wife of one emperor to the next, and if she loves me, perhaps I will be kind._A dark smile fleeted across his features._Revenge, sister, will be mine._

~~~~~ I do have a question – this, in combination with "Echoes in Eternity," is on the verge of turning into a series of its own.Anyone have an idea what to name it?

**As always, please R&R and tell me what you think.**

Robin 

[madwookie@prodigy.net][1]

[www.felixlegions.com][2]

   [1]: mailto:madwookie@prodigy.net
   [2]: http://www.felixlegions.com/



	5. Decisions of Fate

We Live in the Hearts of those We Leave Behind

We Live in the Hearts of those We Leave Behind

Hello again, and here's part 4.Hope you enjoy. Sorry it's been so darn long, but that's the price of being at a military college. I have no life.

As always, please R&R and tell me what you think.

Robin 

[madwookie@prodigy.net][1]

[www.felixlegions.com][2]

** **

** **

**Chapter Four: Decisions of Fate**

"Caesar."Quintus bowed respectfully, and though Maximus would usually wince inside, he was too far gone to bother.Currently, he was locked deep inside, burying his grief beneath a cold and calm exterior, locking his worry and his nerves inside.With a forced and tense calm, he looked up at his general."The trail split three miles from the city," the older man said regretfully."I have sent men in each direction, but…"

"But you think they will find nothing," Maximus finished for him.

"I think they were professionals, sire."

The emperor sighed, and finally allowed his head to drop wearily onto his folded arms."Sit down, Quintus," he whispered, emotion finding its way to the surface for the first time since he had heard the news.The next words, however, came to the surface unbidden, and were those of a father rather than of an emperor."Is there anything?"

His friend's hand came to rest lightly on his arm as his general reached across the antique desk."I am sorry, Maximus," Quintus said softly."We have not given up hope yet."

"I know…" Maximus' head came up, but his eyes, though calm, still hinted at pain."I merely fear what will happen when we find what we are looking for."

The general frowned with confusion."Sire?"

Worry, then hardness, quickly dominated the emperor's features, and he took a deep breath as he regained control.As little as he wished to, life went on throughout tragedy, and there were people whose lives were more important than his own…or even of those dear to him."Nothing."

Again, a respectful bow, and the emperor accepted this one, as well, without emotion.His hazel eyes glinted now, though, not with worry, but with a frosty anger that only a seasoned warrior could produce.He sat motionless upon the centuries-old throne, relaxed and reflective on the outside, but with the inner ferocity of a caged animal, watching the man who had approached short seconds before.Although Maximus truly had no interest in what Senator Gracchus had to say, for decorum's sake, he was forced to listen to such platitudes when there were a million other things he would rather have done…such as searching for his missing nine-year-old son.

"Senator," he acknowledged quietly.

"I come on behalf of my colleagues, Sire," Gracchus said with surprising gentleness, "to express our condolences, and the hope that this will be resolved soon.Anything we can do to help will be done."

Wearily, Maximus nodded in reply, half exasperated and half touched by the older man's words.However, though he'd expected the content, he would have never previously believed that Gracchus would express such honest and forthright emotion."For that I thank you," he said softly."But for now, all we can do is wait."

Even with his own words, though, fury threatened to rise again within him.Maximus knew he stood on a dangerous emotional precipice, one at which there was little hope of regaining control if he let go of it.Although he'd encountered that borderline before in his life, never before had there been so much to lose by crossing it.Too many people, too many lives, depended upon his sanity, his control, and his ability to make decisions uncorrupted by emotion – at times the responsibility made him dizzy, others angry, and still more times it made him uneasy, but he knew he could not run from it, even now.Especially now, even when he wanted to the most, he could not run from it.Duty forbade that escape.

"I also offer you my personal prayers, Caesar," the senator continued, "for your son's safe return."

With effort, the emperor swallowed his emotion back."Thank you."

Once more, the fury left as quickly as it had begun, buried again beneath a father's heartache.Worse yet, he had to look at the situation from dual angles, for he was no longer just a father, nor even just a general – he was the emperor of Rome, the most powerful man in the known world, and that meant that Julius' disappearance was no coincidence.Whoever was responsible had a reason, a goal, behind his actions, and Maximus knew that the asking price would be high for his son's life.However, he had many resources at his fingertips, and countless good men working for Julius' return; all he had to do was remain patient and let them do their work…

Even though few could ever know how hard that was.

Again, Gracchus bowed, but whatever else he might have said was cut off as Quintus rushed into the room, blowing past the praetorians standing guard without a trace of his usually impeccable manners."Maximus!"

Contagious urgency brought Maximus to his feet and propelled him forward to meet his general.All despair had vanished from him in one second, and his muscles were now a coiled spring, waiting and begging for action.The look on his old friend's face, though, told him that something was wrong."What is it?" he asked quickly.

"There is a messenger here for you."Brown eyes met hazel."He is a former Praetorian Guard."

Air caught in Maximus' throat at the direct response, and all the pieces fell into place.Frankly, the emperor was surprised that the possibility had not occurred to him sooner, but it had been easy to grow complacent in that regard.Never had he thought the prince would have the patience to wait so long… He forced such thoughts from his mind, though, as his answer came with surprising calm."Bring him in."

Without another word or waiting for an acknowledgement – Quintus knew full well that one was not needed – Maximus returned to the throne and leaned back, folding his hands.It was surprisingly easy to appear calm; the old razor-edged focus was descending upon him once more as the pressure turned up, and his mind simply turned to the situation at hand with remarkable clarity.From the corner of his eye, he noticed Gracchus retreat to the side wall, remaining in sight but no longer a factor in the way events played out.A wise man, Maximus knew, whose counsel he might soon need.

Then armored footsteps returned as Quintus escorted the messenger in himself, four praetorians in tow to ensure that the stranger – Maximus recognized him only slightly, but there were many former praetorians in the empire – did nothing untold or unexpected.Instinctively, the emperor sensed the two guards at his back tense, ready for action, but he remained motionless, simply studying the man whom Commodus had sent.

_And it was you, wasn't it?_ he thought silently to his distant enemy._You bastard.I should have realized that you would not give up.So what do you want this time?_That answer, however, was always the same.There was only one thing Commodus had always wanted, straight from the beginning, nearly two years ago when he had tried to kill his father to gain it… _"I have friends, Maximus.I am the prince of Rome."_

Inside, the rock of dread began to block his throat.

"What do you want?"It did not escape the emperor's notice that the man did not bow to him, but he let it pass.This was far too deadly a game to be worried with such frivolities.

"I bring a message from Commodus," the former praetorian said directly."He has something you want."

Maximus fought the urge to rise and strangle the man on the spot."Meaning my son," he rumbled.

The messenger merely nodded, but Quintus' hand moved to his weapon's hilt.There was anger glinting in his old friend's eyes as well, but a look made the older man stand down, although it could not stop the murderous glare the general shot the Commodus' henchman.Nor could Maximus' outward calm completely hide the fury lashing though his body.

"What does he want?"In truth, the levelness of his voice surprised even the emperor, but he knew it was anger that drove him to be so, not calm.

"He desires what is rightfully his," the messenger replied evenly, daring to look the emperor in the eyes.

Maximus did not even blink, but his mind was racing._And should I not give in, he kills Julius…_

Despair stole his ability to speak for several fleeting moments, and the silence weighed heavily upon all those in the room._And he must ask for what I can not give…He must demand the one thing I am incapable of doing…I would give the world to save Julius; I would sacrifice my own life; I would do anything, everything, to ensure his safety._In the end, when viewed dispassionately, it seemed to be not a hard choice: the death of one or the death of a dream.The life of one, or the lives of billions.Duty versus love; responsibility verses family… There seemed no option other than to refuse, and pay the price.

But Maximus had not been trained to give up.

"I want proof my son is alive," he said calmly, his mind working furiously to throw his heart out of the equation and to think emotionlessly about the situation, but it was harder than he'd believed possible, even with lifetime of control.He would have to act, and act quickly, but it was possible.It had to be possible.

The messenger did not seem surprised."I will return at this time tomorrow," he replied, but continued coldly before Maximus could reply."Any action on your part will ensure your son's death."

The emperor's eyes shifted to Quintus."Escort him out," he said calmly, and his old friend nodded in understanding, and took the messenger by the arm, leading him out.

His cold eyes watched them leave; only then did Maximus exhale the breath he had been holding, allowing his worry to ride out on the air and be replaced with calculated fury.The façade would not last long, he knew, but it would be long enough.Slowly, he rose, and with a gesture, cleared the room of all but his praetorians and Senator Gracchus, whose presence he had almost forgotten.The old man's eyes, though, were riveted on him, even as Maximus ignored him.

"You can not be seriously considering the offer!" the senator demanded as the emperor moved by him, cold purpose dictating his stride.

Maximus did not even stop."My decisions are my responsibility, not yours," he said shortly, allowing no argument on the subject, but Gracchus moved in front of him, forcing him to stop.

Irrational fury ripped through him, but the senator was unaware of that."Not when they affect all of Rome."

Clenching and unclenching his fists once to maintain control, Maximus managed the response with little calm. "Let it rest, Senator," he spat."You know nothing of what I am doing."

"I know that one life is not worth sacrificing millions, and that is what you will do if you give Commodus the empire!"

With those words, which echoed his own doubts all too closely, Maximus' temper escaped his control and without thinking, he lunged forward.

Twin sets of strong arms grabbed him from behind, though, and stopped the emperor from doing what he might have later regretted.For one irrational moment, he fought the hold, until Quintus' urgent voice snapped him out of it._"Maximus!"_ his old friend shook him slightly."He is not the one you want!"

Fury hung on a moment longer, then cold realization washed over the emperor, and he shook of both Quintus and his personal guard.Gracchus, he noticed, had backed off several steps and was now eyeing him warily.It was a long moment before Maximus trusted himself to speak.

"Do you think I care so little for Rome?" he demanded, and fury threatened to shake him once more, but he held tightly to control."I know what I cannot give!"

His words echoed softly off the marble walls, and again he fought desperately for calm.Finally, he turned to Quintus."You had him followed?"

"Yes, sire," his old friend said softly, worry in his eyes."By my best men."

The senator's eyes widened ever so slightly."You risk much," he said softly.

Coldness had once again gained the upper hand."I have no choice."

With that, Maximus strode quickly from the room, aware that he could no longer abide so many eyes upon him, and knowing that he had to escape the cascading responsibility _to do the right thing._

"There is no way," Maximus whispered raggedly in response to her question."The place Albinius returned to is an old frontier fortress from the early republic, but it is heavily guarded…there's no way to get in without giving them ample time to kill Julius."

Once more, his tears threatened to rise, and then overflowed even as the emperor angrily wiped them away.Lucilla's arm went around him then, gently, but he hardly felt it."Your men are the best in the world, Maximus," she said softly."They will find a way."

A single tear found its way past control once more."Not without getting him killed.We cannot hit hard enough or fast enough –" His voice caught in his throat again."But he asks for what I can not give…"

"Oh, Maximus," his wife whispered gently."Don't give up hope yet."

The emperor swallowed."I'd give my life for his, if only that were enough."

"I know," Lucilla replied."And so does Julius.Have faith, Maximus.We will find something."

"I can but hope," he whispered in reply, but inside his heart was already in shreds.He did not think they would fail – he _knew _it with the inborn instinct of a master strategist, of a practiced tactician.Unless he found some way to change the odds against his son, unless he could find a way around implacable finality or defeat the very universe itself, Julius was doomed.Maximus was not a pessimist by nature, though he was a realist.He dealt in hard and cold facts, believed in things he could see or _feel_…and he felt this situation all too keenly.Long ago, he'd learned to rely upon his instincts, for such things often noticed things he could not; yet he'd learned to harness those feelings over time.He'd learned to understand every nuance of them, tell what they meant – and this time, his instincts told him that success was impossible.

Then again, he could but hope that was merely his grief speaking.

But he'd never felt so helpless in his life, and Maximus hated that feeling.It made him want to lash out at something, _anything_, just to take out his frustration and to _get his son back._Hopeless as precipitous action would be, it would still be _action_, and anything, at that moment, felt better than sitting still.There were no options to take, of course, but he could not help but feel that he was missing some crucial bit of information, some integral piece of the equation…

Then again, he could but hope that wasn't merely his heart screaming.

"When he comes this afternoon, he will come with a time limit," the emperor continued raggedly."He will probably not bring proof aside from Commodus' word, but he knows that I will know.Your brother knows me well, Lucilla."

"No better than you know him," his wife countered, laying her chin gently on his shoulder."I know you can't give in, but it's not like you to give up, either, Maximus.Aren't you the one who told me that 'impossible is only a word the inexperienced use'?"

Once, anger might have filled him at the suggestion that he would give up, now, though, he felt only immense sadness.Maximus was too drained to feel anything more."I still hold to hope," he whispered."I _cling_ to hope… But above all else, I am a soldier, and I know what can and can not be realistically expected of any army, no matter how well trained or how experienced."Grief, finally, made his unreal calm crack with his voice."And I fear this may be it."

There was no proof forthcoming, this time, only a letter, which Albinius handed wordlessly to Quintus for the general to pass immediately on to his emperor.Maximus paused for a moment, studying the scroll which he knew would either seal his son's death or tell him of its existence.It was highly unlikely that Commodus knew that Albinius had been followed back to the fortress, but the possibility still existed, and it had been a terrible chance to take.Gracchus had not been lying, the day before, when he had told the emperor that he had _risked much._But then, there was no other way.

Calmly, Maximus broke the seal on the letter, unrolling it with hands that tried to shake but were forbidden even that release.Above all else, he had to be strong…If not for Rome, then at least for his son.Ironclad control laid over his expression, and the emperor began to read.

_Maximus,_

__

My most sincere greetings to you, in Rome, and I hope my sister is well, as well my nephew.I also hope that this letter finds you in good health and unburdened by the responsibilities you thus far hold.

Formalities aside, old friend, I realize the situation that I have placed you in, and I do not relish it.I have no desire for harm to come to your son, for he is but a child, irresponsible for the events that have overtaken him.I regret that you have been unwilling to share my point of view and I have thus been forced to employ rather stronger means of persuasion, but I will not be swayed from my present course of action.It would have been better, perhaps, if this had all been concluded in Germania, whereas I would have gladly offered you my hand – as I am still willing to do – and I can but hope you would have taken it.Regardless of possibilities, though, I again must stress my ultimatum:in return for control of Rome and your willing abdication, I will give you your son's life.

I realize, old friend, that it is rather bad form to issue an ultimatum to an emperor, but as we both know, I hold the upper hand.Besides, Maximus, how truly suited are you for the purple?I can only imagine your temper now, and your anger at the hopelessness of your situation.I know you must often wish you had never brought your son to my city, and had merely returned to private life as you once assured me you desired to do.However, I do still offer you hope.Your son will not die if I receive your decision by noon tomorrow.Albinius will wait that long and bring it to me, and upon your agreement, I will return to the city and, while taking my proper place at the head of the empire, I will return your son to you.

It is that simple, old friend.Surrender yourself and the empire into my hands and I will be merciful.Should you decide not to serve me, I will also be merciful.Either way, your son will live.Is there really a decision to make?Rome is my birthright, and therefore my responsibility.You need not concern yourself for the ramblings of a dying old man.

Noon tomorrow, Maximus, or your son's death awaits.There is no negotiation.

Commodus,

Prince.

Briefly, the letter shifted in his grip, and Maximus wondered momentarily what made it do so until he realized that his hands had begun to tremble.With an effort, he stilled them, unsure if they shook from grief or from rage.The calm madness in his brother-in-law's letter was unsettling, to say the least, and the emperor could easily read the mocking voice carefully concealed beneath the letter's formality.Talking a deep breath, he steadied himself enough to look at the situation dispassionately.For a moment, in his mind's eye, fantasy allowed itself to run wildly into the darkness of a Rome at Commodus' mercy… Many times had he and Marcus Aurelius discussed that very possibility, and both had been horrified at what they knew would happen.That, in the long run, had been the only reason why Maximus had become willing to shoulder the burden of ruling the empire.He had known that there was no one else.

But Julius…!

Two choices, each admirably clear… On one hand, he could betray the only world he had ever believed in, and on the other – on the other hand, he could send his reply and wait for Commodus to send him his son's head.Then, Maximus knew, the need for revenge could very easily overtake him and turn him into the very sort of man he hated.What then, would become of Rome?

I trust you to do what must be done… A lifetime ago, a fragile Marcus Aurelius had said those words to him, and Maximus had once feared those words would be his last.More recently, though, was the memory of other words.He remembered, with sorrow, sitting at the dying man's bedside, praying futilely that it would not yet be the end.However, a beginning had begun that day as well, one he remembered with all his heart.You are my legacy, Maximus…

And in the end, he could never betray that trust.Maximus had never believed in anything before he had learned to believe in Rome, and now that was no longer merely a dream to him – it was a responsibility that he could not forget.Millions of fates would be denied if he gave into humanity, so that left only one choice… To sacrifice his own son.He had to kill a child in search of something greater than them all, and do so without hesitation and without weakness, for an emperor could not afford to be weak, simply because Rome could not afford to be weak.And for all practical intents and purposes, he was Rome.

So Julius had to die – Unless… Unless –

There had to be another way, something other than passively letting death and Commodus rule the day –

Any chance was better than none at all.

Slowly, his eyes traveled upwards, sightlessly skirting the text of the letter once more on the way to their target.For several long seconds, he allowed his now cold and determined gaze to rest on Clodius Albinius, dispassionately studying the man's anticipatory glee.However, Maximus did not let it affect him in the slightest; now that he had a plan in his mind, his heart was clearing of all outside considerations…he hoped.Regardless, old training and a long habit of control allowed him to focus clearly and place his anger, hate, and worry aside long enough to do what had to be done.Next, his gaze traveled to Quintus, and he saw his general straighten at the plain willpower in his eyes."General Quintus."

Albinius started slightly at the change, but the mercenary had not yet recognized the significance of it.With luck, Maximus knew he never would until it was far too late.However, someone else clearly understood.From behind his left shoulder, he heard Lucilla's sharp intake of breath.

"Caesar?" Maximus' old friend replied formally as their eyes locked.

"Arrest this man for treason against Rome."

Now the ex-praetorian turned shocked for real.To his mind, it was clearly inconceivable that Maximus would do anything other than jump obediently to Commodus' tune; it was utterly unthinkable that he might decide to take a risk other than give in to what Albinius saw as inevitable.However, the emperor's professional reputation had long been one of unpredictability… Corner him, and he would always find a way to lash out. This, too, was only the beginning of something far more deadly.

"Yes, sire."Before Albinius could react, Quintus and two praetorians had stepped forward and taken him into custody.His mouth began to flap open in outraged shock, but the emperor overrode him without hesitation, gaze still on Quintus.

"Call out the Felix Regiment and the mounted Praetorian Guard," he commanded."We ride in one hour."

   [1]: mailto:madwookie@prodigy.net
   [2]: http://www.felixlegions.com/



	6. Coming Home

We Live in the Hearts of those We Leave Behind

We Live in the Hearts of those We Leave Behind

Sorry about the delay – here's part 5.As always, please tell me what you think.

Robin 

[madwookie@prodigy.net][1]

[www.felixlegions.com][2]

** **

** **

CHAPTER FIVE: COMING HOME 

"You cannot."

"I must."Angrily, Maximus reached down and started lacing his boots tightly, trying not to snap back at his wife, for inside, he knew that he was far more worried than he was angry, but at the moment, his runaway emotions hardly mattered.

"Maximus, you cannot do this!"

His head snapped up as he rose, fury dictating his every motion, but unlike every man he had ever known, Lucilla did not shrink from his temper.Her blue eyes just levelly demanded that he become more than he was.Through clenched teeth, he snarled, "And why not?"

"Because you have a responsibility–"

"Yes, I do," he cut her off."To Julius."

Her calm and quiet voice was in direct contrast to his belligerent tone."To Rome, Maximus," Lucilla said softly."You have a responsibility to Rome."

Pain welled up within his soul once more, trying desperately to do battle with what others might have called duty, but for him, duty was far to insignificant a word."That does not change mine to my son," he whispered, his voice suddenly ragged as conflicting emotions washed like waves through his heart.

"No, it does not."His wife approached him and laid her hands upon his cheeks."But you cannot go for the same reason that you refused Commodus' demand."When he moved to object, Lucilla placed a gentle finger on his lips."You are the Emperor of Rome.You cannot risk yourself."

Her lower lip trembled slightly as she spoke the next words, and the emperor was forced to remember that she loved his son, too, as only Lucilla could."Your people need you as much as Julius does."

Anger – at her, at Commodus, at the world, and at himself – welled up briefly inside Maximus once more, only to be drowned quickly under another wave of pain."I…"

Gently, Lucilla embraced him."I know," she whispered."But were you to die, even in a successful rescue, that would leave Rome not only headless, but in Commodus' hands, and no matter what, he would win.Julius knows you love him, Maximus… Your presence can only make things worse."

Unspoken, though, was the final warning that even Lucilla did not have the heart to say, and Maximus swallowed hard as it occurred to him.Again, possibilities played themselves out in his mind, and he could see the most dreadful picture forming – should he go, and any of Commodus' men find one second long enough to seize Julius and use his son's life as a direct threat against him – the emperor dreaded the consequences of that dearly.He had always known he would give his own life without hesitation; never, though, had he thought of the consequences of doing so.From far away, it was easier to take this impossible risk, but could he really look own child in the eye and refuse to save his life?Another man might be able to do it – even Quintus had a more dispassionate perspective on such matters than his emperor did – but Maximus was nearly certain that he could not.

Or at least he was certain that he would never be able to live with himself if he did.

Again, Lucilla was speaking, unrelenting and gentle, and she held him in her arms."Let Quintus lead the men…He loves you, and could never give less than his all.If this is possible, he will succeed."

"If…" The word caught in Maximus' throat, and he blinked back tears once more as his wife kissed him on the cheek.You knew the risks when you made the choice, he told himself firmly.It must be done, somehow…

And I cannot do it.

Sighing, he nodded reluctantly into her embrace."You are right," he whispered heavily, hating the words even as he spoke them; as a leader, he had never once wanted to ask any man to risk what he could not risk, or to go where he would not go – but now he was not only a general, expendable enough to lead from the front; now he was the Emperor of Rome, and so many more depended upon him than just his son.Julius… But millions of lives were, as always, at his fingertips, and he had sworn an oath, long ago, to Rome; even as Caesar, he would honor it.

Silently, his heart wailed once more, even as he pulled away from Lucilla to give the order for Quintus to come to him.

Julius…

When Quintus approached his old friend, Maximus was not armored as the general had expected him to be; rather, he was still in the imperial purple and again seated upon the antique throne.Inwardly, his mind railed in a moment of confusion at the sight, but Quintus had fought at his general's – damn, it was hard to think of him as his emperor at times, even now, especially now, with the pressure on – side for too many years to doubt him.Whatever he had in mind, it was for the best.

After a few steps forward, the general bowed; between the two of them, the rules were far more lax, but there was the unspoken rule that Quintus had made in his own mind: when Maximus was on the throne, he was the Emperor of Rome.There were no ifs, ands, or buts, either; he would act formally when such was the case.Other times could see him much more relaxed, and during some moments, they could even act like the old friends they still were, but right now was a time to respect tradition…especially with others looking on.A quick glance at his surroundings took in Lucilla, standing by her husband's side, looking as unreadable and noble as ever.The general had never expected to come to know Marcus Aurelius' daughter as well as he had, but upon doing so, he had learned what she and Maximus meant to each other – and that by reading one, you might as well have been reading the other.Neither's expression ever betrayed much, but even then, Quintus knew the two were closely intertwined.

__Only a split second had passed though, before the general returned his full attention to his liege.As their eyes met, Maximus rose, and though he moved with his typical confidence, Quintus could see that there was something more hidden behind it.He had know his emperor for more than sixteen years – nearly half his life – and they had been friends since almost the beginning; therefore, it wasn't with any rational observation that Quintus knew something was wrong.He could feel it, though, in his bones, and he knew the stress was hitting Maximus hard.His friend had become a good emperor, a great emperor, and he had always handled pressure well, but the general could only imagine how he would feel in Maximus' position, forced to choose between his family and his nation.Forced to choose between his son and Rome.

In the emperor's position, Quintus would never have trusted himself to make that choice, and knew that the chance Maximus was about to take, had it been his own, would have torn him apart.Then again, the general knew that this choice still had a distinct and vivid possibility of doing just that to his friend, and inwardly, he railed against it._He doesn't deserve half the pain he has gone through in his life,_ Quintus thought to himself._It would have broken a lesser man, yet he's always been so strong._A deep breath rattled unintentionally in his chest, and he silently prayed to the gods that this wouldn't be the one challenge Maximus could never overcome.

Still silent, the emperor held out a hand to his general.Automatically grasping firmly it in his own, Quintus studied the younger man's face and wondered if he couldn't see new lines forming there.Before he could complete the thought, though, Maximus spoke.

"I need you to lead the raid without me, Quintus," he said.

The general's eyebrows shot up at this unexpected development.Maximus' voice was level, but an old friend could detect a hint of strain beneath the surface; even then, though, that would never be enough for him to make this decision – unless he felt it to be the right one. Warring emotions whipped though Quintus, each in consort with the other.For a moment he felt relief, but fear quickly overshadowed its effect._He trusts me so much…_

A shiver immediately followed that thought.Failure, then, was not an option.Quintus asked the next question quietly, though, knowing his old friend."Are you sure?"

"Yes."Maximus paused, and his eyes drifted meaningfully around the room for a moment."There are some risks I cannot take."

"I understand." _And so, he realizes what the rest of us have always known._

Although his friend's eyes were still steady, Quintus could see the emotions lashing beneath the surface."Thank you."

"We will find him, Maximus," the general said, tightening his grip for but a second, and trying to communicate his loyalty and determination all in a look."And we will bring him home."

The ghost of a smile forced its way onto the emperor's face."I trust you."

Three simple words were enough to drive Quintus' heart into his throat.So much was riding on him now… He was no stranger to responsibility, but he'd have rathered die than fail this time._I only hope that it is not misplaced._

Flames lapped against the pile of straw with deceiving gentleness, dancing easily in their deadly grace.Above where they rested upon the dirt floor of the old Republican fortress, though, another type of fire raged.Shouts echoed from the old stone walls and steel rang on steel as Roman fought Roman, mercenary against legionnaire, citizen against praetorian.The odds rose and the odds fell, for though the forces were unevenly matched, Quintus and his men had but one price to pay if they failed…and Commodus, and his men, knew that as well.

Quintus Magnus, the emperor's general, fought side by side with Presario, a young major of the Praetorian Guard, each striking with equal desperation and fury.Time was not growing short; rather, far too much of it was passing – and then the frenzied shout of _"Fire!"_ emerged to drive them on even faster.

Footsteps rang hard on cold marble floors, while, finally away from prying eyes, Caesar Maximus Decimus Meridius Augustus paced.His world hung on the precipice of fate, and it killed him to be unable to affect which way it would fall.All his life, Maximus had exerted iron will upon events surrounding him, been controlled perhaps to a fault, and forged forward with a kind of recklessness that some would call courage, yet at that moment, all he could do was wait.All he could do was hope.

Lucilla sat nearby, watching him from behind a seemingly composed face, but she knew every facet and molecule of his soul.In many ways, she was the very center of his being; the one constant in his forever changing world.Vows and duties mattered not at all next to her love, for Lucilla, truly, in the end, only Lucilla, made his life worth living.Now, she felt a pain and worry twin to his own, knew of the pounding of his heart and the gut wrenching helplessness nothing could alleviate.Yet, she could do nothing for him, no matter how much comfort she offered.Julius was not her son, not by blood, and though she loved the boy – she would have loved him for Maximus' sake if nothing else, but she _did_ love him – her feelings were not of a parent forced to choose between their child and their country.Should Quintus fail, she would not be permanently scarred by this blow.

No one could share his pain, not now, and not even her, but, as his heels beat the hard floor, those who loved him knew and strived to understand his heartbreak.Most of all, Maximus was fully aware of the chance he was taking, and of its monumental risk of failure.He did not need to be told what could be.Despite that, or perhaps because of it, prayer upon prayer and hope driven by despair joined in the depths of a city's pleas for their emperor's son.Maximus they knew as a good man, the chosen heir and son of Marcus Aurelius; his was also a kind yet firm rule, though they knew he had suffered much in his life.So, together, and alone, the hearts and hopes of his people stretched out to him as he paced, praying for him, but forever unable to share his grief.

On the opposite end of the a cold and darkening hell of choices, another royal person paced, yet his hope was no longer the reverse of the emperor's; rather, now they were aligned. Once, having vindictively ordered and wished for an innocent child's death, he had been ready for the consequences.Now, though, Commodus had no desire to die.In light of possibilities he had never before considered, revenge and ambition seemed somehow…less all absorbing.His yearning had not waned, yet it had been overshadowed by something far more powerful – the will to live.Suddenly, too, he knew what he had risked.

Vengeance had once tasted so sweet in his mouth, when he knew he could succeed.When there had seemed to be nothing for Maximus to do, save submit, the choice had been easy.When Maximus had refused, that order, too, had been straightforward.Upon thought, however, nothing seemed so simple anymore.No, he was not having an attack of conscience; if necessary, the prince was still capable of ordering a child's death.Rather, it was the fact that Julius was Maximus' child.Again, though, compassion did not drive the sudden change; fear, however, influenced it greatly.Need for vengeance had driven the prince for a long time now, forcing him to be patient and strong.Commodus could only imagine Maximus wounded and driven by revenge.

And that thought made him afraid.

Without warning, a crash sounded from other side of the broad wooden door, and made Commodus' still loyal Praetorians shift anxiously and arm themselves.From the looks that passed between them, then, and the continued racket from the outside, he knew they had been found.

A panicked glance at his surroundings finally revealed the uselessness of his bolthole to the prince.One way in, same way out – once that had seemed a good way to hide and ensure security; now, it simply made the small storage room a death trap.Commodus tried to take a deep breath to steady himself, but even to his own ears, it sounded like a gasp.What could he do?Where could he turn?There was no one left to help him, and surely, even his sister would turn from him because of this, even though nothing he had done in the past had made her do so before.Even Lucilla could not forgive him for this – for necessity, his terrified mind reminded the rest of him – because it was necessary, wasn't it?Shouldn't he rule Rome?Didn't he have the blood?The power to decide that question, though, belonged to someone else.

Suddenly, Commodus found himself wishing very strongly that Maximus' son might live.

Cries began to echo through the streets as the bloody and ragged force of mismatched legionaries and praetorians approached the gates.The city, once deathly quiet and united in hope, reacted convulsively to the sight before them now.As one, thousands surged towards the palace, where their clamor could already be heard.The warmth of sunlight beat down upon them, too, making a muggy day even hotter, when bodies pressed closely to one another, straining to guess at the result of the mission all knew about.

As the soldiers entered the gates, though, the crowd began to shift uneasily.They were pressed closely together now, in a tightly knit formation that no eye could pierce.Their manner was strangely out of place, though, with everything the people had expected, and as whispers spread, the multitude began to worry.Victory had been, they thought, inevitable – after all, their emperor was a great general who had never lost a battle, and he was far too good a man to lose his son to such treachery.Good had to triumph over evil.

Without breaking stride, though, and with no hesitation, the formation reached the palace.Only then, did their rigidity break down, revealing two riders at the very center – Quintus Magnus and Commodus Aurelius.The general dismounted, though, and was lost from sight as six praetorians closed in on the prince.

A gasp rose from the crowd, though, defying the solemnity of the situation for but an instant, for there, on the palace steps, was the Emperor.He moved forward slowly, with a deliberate and measured stride, his wife, stepson, praetorian commander, and key advisors trailing behind.Maximus' face was expressionless and inhumanly calm; he stopped at the bottom of the stairs.Once again, the ranks parted, and General Quintus stepped forward to meet his liege, a slight, small, and still form cradled in his arms.

Wordlessly, the general laid his burden at the foot of the stairs, only a yard from his Emperor's feet.He stepped back then, his head bowed in the deafening silence.For several long seconds, Maximus stood motionless as a statue, all color draining from his face.Some in the crowd thought that they saw him blink, but others swore that he never moved at all, his face remaining expressionless as the crowd digested what this had to mean.Still more people would later insist that there were tears on Quintus' face.

Slowly, then, Maximus moved forward with two mechanical strides that spoke of the greatest control.He knelt at his son's side, pulling away the cloak wrapped around the child's dead body and his fingers gently brushing the slack features.For but an instant, his head bowed, and some claimed that they saw his shoulders shake.But the moment passed, and he leaned over to tenderly plant the ritual farewell kiss upon Julius' forehead.He remained bent over for several long seconds, then his head came up, and he rose, lifting his dead child in his arms.Maximus turned slowly, nearly overcome by sorrow, to bring his son inside one last time.

But there was nothing soft about the eyes that sought Commodus Aurelius.For one short eternity, he allowed his gaze, hurt, angry, and cold, to burn into the prince – but there was no satisfaction in watching him squirm.Not now.He was too physically and emotionally drained.So, he turned his eyes to Quintus, his old friend, whom, intellectually, Maximus knew, was grieving for his mortal failure.Somehow, the words came steadily and calmly."Take him away."

Unable to speak, the general simply gave a nod and half-bow in reply, his right fist striking his chest in a gesture that meant more than compliance and more than loyalty; though they both knew it, the time for words had not yet come.Long years of friendship, though, transmitted Quintus' sorrowful regret and heartfelt apology with only a glance – and somehow, Maximus found the heart to understand them from beneath his pain.It was easy to accept that the tragedy was not his friend's fault; emotion, though, would forever make it impossible to believe that it was not his own.

Completing his turn, the Emperor again mounted the steps, shattered dreams crumbling beneath his feet, taking, for the last time, his son home.

   [1]: mailto:madwookie@prodigy.net
   [2]: http://www.felixlegions.com/



	7. It Ends Here

We Live in the Hearts of those We Leave Behind 

As always, please read and review!  Let me know what you think!    

Robin 

madwookie@prodigy.net

www.felixlegions.com 

**CHAPTER SIX: "IT ENDS HERE"**

            The ring of his footsteps sounded with military precision, and the gathered crowd of well-meaning mourners parted for the Emperor's General.  His eyes ignored the multitudes that had gathered around Maximus, for Quintus knew that they meant nothing to his old friend.  One look was enough to tell the older man how tightly the Emperor held his grief in check and the heartbreak that he had to be feeling.  A father himself, and expecting his second child from wife number two, the general could only imagine how devastating the loss was.  And it's my fault.  I failed him when he was counting on me the most.

            I don't deserve forgiveness for this.  Nor do I wish to ask.

            Maximus slowly turned to face him, and to Quintus, his old friend suddenly looked decades older than his thirty-two years.  But his shoulders were still back and he carried himself with pride and nobility despite what had befallen him…it wasn't the first time that Quintus would marvel at the man's heart.  

            He bowed, as he always did when there were courtiers around.  It was expected - for these shallow men of the old families, such frivolities were important.  They'd never understand that some friendships ran far beyond formalities, and that trust was far more important than a show of loyalty, even between an emperor and a general.  Especially between an emperor and a general.  "Caesar."

            "General."

            Oh, the safe refuge of formalities.  The pain was still very real and fresh for both of them; an hour had not yet passed since…that.  "He has been imprisoned.  Security is tight."

            "Very well."  Maximus' voice was even, yet soft, and somehow the formal and necessary words Quintus had said just did not seem enough.  Their eyes met, for a moment, and the general saw the deep and wrenching pain concealed in the other's.  Without thinking, he bowed his head and spoke his heart, unable to meet that hurt gaze as he did so.

            "I am so sorry," Quintus whispered.  A sudden silence greeted his words, and it seemed the entire room was focused on him, but he did not care.  They weren't important.  "I failed you."

            Long moments ticked by, and the general began to fear the worst.  Forgiveness he could not bear to ask for, but if Maximus hated him, though he deserved it – 

            "Quintus…" Maximus began, and the general had to swallow his grief back even as his emperor's voice faltered for the first time.  Suddenly, though, a gentle hand landed on his shoulder.  "My old friend…I do not blame you.  You gave me your best – I can ask for no more."

            "I failed."  The whisper could not have been nearly as broken as his heart, yet it sounded like it.  
            "We all do sometimes."  Quintus dared to look up, and saw no blame in his friend's eyes.  "I do not blame you," Maximus repeated.

            He hadn't wanted to ask, yet he had to.  "Forgive me."

            Maximus' hand tightened on his shoulder.  "I do."

            Solemn words filled the vast and otherwise warm and sunny Forum with ice.  "Commodus Aurelius, you stand accused of three counts of high treason."  One might have expected a mummer to cross the ancient meeting place, but it was not so.  A deathly silence filled the Forum and not a soul seemed daring enough to move.  "The first charge: attempted murder of your father, the late and esteemed Caesar Marcus Aurelius Antoninus Augustus.  The second: attempted usurpation of the Imperial throne and rebellion against the legally constituted authority of the Emperor.  The third: murder of the prince Julius Marcus Meridius.  Have you any defense against these charges?"

            Commodus rose with a long-absent dignity and grace.  "All I did, I did for the good of Rome."

            Outraged whispers chased his words; he had no friends left now, only enemies.  However, a raised hand silenced them all as Gracchus, the Imperial Prosecutor, rose from his stool deep in the common well.  He stepped forward, white tunic flowing gently around him as he approached the prince, making him look more the part of a gentle grandfather than a prosecutor.  Although Gracchus had not practiced law in years, he possessed immense experience as a prosecutor; he'd only taken less and less cases as his political career accelerated.  Now, as senior consul, the old man rarely even attended trials, but this one was different.  Not only had the emperor personally asked Gracchus to take the case; the old man also had a personal score to settle with the destructively minded prince.  All political faults aside, Gracchus loved Rome with all his heart – and Commodus would willingly have let the dream crumble like dust through careless fingers.  It was high time that the prince paid the price.

            When he spoke again, though, his words betrayed none of the fire dancing underneath and within his soul.  Both were locked deep inside, only to emerge in the privacy of a later time.  The old man knew he could afford to let neither affect his judgment, for he would need all his wits when pitted against this opponent.  "Have you anything to say in your defense, Commodus?"

            His question, however, had the desired effect.  Emotions were bad in the courtroom, he knew – unless, of course, you could string your adversary's out beyond their control.  "I am the Prince of Rome."  Anger flared in Commodus' eyes.  "Respect me as such," he snapped.

            "You were a prince.  Now you stand accused of treason, stripped of your titles," Gracchus replied evenly, and then continued relentlessly.  "Have you any defense?"

            "It was for Rome."

            Again, the crowd shifted uneasily and murmured unhappily.  His arrogant reply only made him more enemies amongst the mob, and they cared not for what he claimed.  Commodus might have been the son of Marcus Aurelius, but they all knew that the old emperor had not chosen him.  Instead, the man he had chosen, Maximus, had become the victim of his insane obsession, and all Rome was paying the price.

            Inwardly, the old man smiled.  Commodus' already frayed self-control was weakening by the moment as he became more and more annoyed – first, at Gracchus' lack of respect, and now, at his reminder that Commodus no longer possessed the power he craved so.  The momentary nobility was gone, now, no matter how out of place it had been for the few short seconds of life it had enjoyed.  Gracchus took a long moment, though, before replying, "You have no defense, then?"

            "I need none."  The prince's chin rose slightly as he regained a mien of self-control.  "The people know I did it for them.  I am their father, and I acted as was my right."

            "Then you admit to the charges?" Gracchus pressed him.

            Cold eyes met the Senator's, then, though, and the prince did not reply.  No, he was not such a fool after all – he would not condemn himself with his own words.  As if his actions have not been enough, Gracchus thought cynically.  He might be treading the thin line aside insanity, but he's not lost his brain yet.  He backtracked.  "You admit that you acted in what you believed were Rome's best interests?"

            "Rome has always been my concern."

"Of course," Gracchus said noncommittally.  "You were so concerned that you had to kill your father – for Rome."

Commodus whitened slightly, and then the Senator knew he had him.  Silently, he sent up a prayer.  I'm sorry, my old friend, he thought.  But if this is the way to get him, I will use you shamelessly.  Forgive me; I know he is your son – but he is a poison upon the dream you held.  Then the young man's eyes sharpened.  

"I did not kill him."

"Not for lack of trying," the prosecutor commented.  "If not for the actions of the man whose son you did kill, our future might well have been very different." 

Inexplicably, a shiver ran down Gracchus' spine as he spoke those words, and for one long second, he found his mind dwelling in fear upon what might have been.  If not for Maximus, where would our empire be?  What horrors would we experience…?

For a moment, the white anger faded and was replaced by something far different and far more vulnerable.  Commodus blinked, then, and a fleeting emotion flashed over his handsome features.  His frown grew pensive, for a moment, and as he blinked a second time, his shoulders hunched in a defensive posture; when his eyes rose, they screamed of loss and loneliness for but an endless instant.  In those unbelievable seconds, he seemed far more a lost child than a man willing to murder innocents in the name of his ambition.  

"I did not mean…" His whisper trailed off into the sudden silence, and then the spell was broken.  Commodus' head came up, and his shoulders squared back once more.  Again, his eyes hardened, and the monster emerged from the closet, fangs flashing in the sunlight.  The senator blinked, himself, trying to decide if he really had seen what he'd thought was there… For a moment, it confused him, but then he put it aside.  Gracchus knew he could not allow personal feelings to intrude upon this of all matters.

"And yet you did – all in the name of ambition."

The anger was back in full force now, and the prince spat the reply, "I owe you no explanations."

"No, but you owe them to Rome."

"I am above that."

"Are you really?" Gracchus challenged.  Part of him could pity Commodus, for the lost and lonely boy that the senator had just been reminded that he once was, but that could not, would not, matter now.  "Above Rome?"

"I will not stand for this travesty of justice any longer," the prince declared, rising and all but baiting the court to discipline him.

The long controlled fiery frustration, though, finally broke through Gracchus' barriers, and he rose to the challenge, all the while knowing what he was doing.  It might have been wrong, but it sure felt good – and there was no Roman citizen who would fault him.  Public opinion had already sentenced the former prince, and no amount of posturing would save him now.  "You will reseat yourself or I will have the bailiffs do it for you," the prosecutor snapped.

"And lay a hand on a royal person?" Commodus returned.

"You are disrupting the sanctity of the court and mocking Roman law," Gracchus countered.  "That, like all your actions, is unacceptable."

But Commodus smiled, and Gracchus knew he'd made a big mistake.  By allowing his anger to get a hold of him, he had put the ball squarely into the prince's court, and was allowing Commodus to shine in a way that only he could.  The senator had entered the trial with a vow not to let his hatred affect his judgment, but in the heat of the moment, that promise had gone by the wayside.  Taking a deep breath, Gracchus regained control of himself for the final time.  He would win, surely, but he'd just made his own job incalculably harder.  It was going to be a long trial.

Silent and smooth footsteps sounded loudly in the old prison where the prince remained for the final hours before his execution.  Commodus turned, agitated, but trying to hide it, although his state of mind was clear to his visitor.  He frowned, though, upon seeing who it was.  He'd hoped his sister would come for one final moment, but no suck luck.

"Come to gloat, have you?" he snapped.

Maximus looked him in the eye.  "No, I have not."

"Then what do you want?"  Although he wanted to remain silent as a show of his resolve, the former prince could not resist asking. 

"I don't know," the emperor admitted.

"If you've come to ask why, don't bother," the younger man replied spitefully.  "You know the reason."

Maximus nodded, and Commodus could not help but envy the older man's quiet dignity and self-control.  Both were traits that he had long aspired to but never found; it was unfair, really, that such things came so easily to Maximus.  He looks the part of the Emperor, Commodus admitted to himself.  He doesn't even seem uncomfortable with the power now, does he?  He never wanted it, yet he wears the purple as if he was born to it.  As always, the Emperor's gaze was direct and fearful of no man – his courage had mystified the prince from the beginning, so long ago.  He hadn't understood why a simple solider could move as if he ruled the world.  He hadn't understood why a mere general could win his sister's heart when no one at court had ever been able to move her at all.  And he'd never understood why this stranger had been the son his father chose to love.

"I know," the older man affirmed, and inwardly, Commodus railed, unaware of how his emotions played across his face.

Why did you love him so? he demanded to a man now dead and gone, who, yes, he had tried to kill.  He did regret that now, but Father left me no choice.  Why did you love him so?  Why not me?  Wasn't I your son, your heir?  Shouldn't it be me standing outside this dank cell, noble and majestic?  Why did you have to love him?

What did I ever do to make you hate me so?

But in a moment of incoming death's self-truths, he knew the reason.  Commodus had been nothing like his father; he'd not been raised with the same values and loves.  Yes, he'd loved Rome – but he'd loved her as a city he'd been born to rule.  At least, that had been what everyone around him had said from the beginning.  Older now, and wiser, Commodus knew that his mother hadn't been much of help, either.  Faustina had raised her one surviving son to believe that he was the center of the universe.  She'd spoiled him and pampered him, sheltering the young prince from the outside world and never telling him that there was anything to miss out there.  Commodus was still not sure if he had missed anything, but there had certainly been something wrong in his father's eyes.

He realized, then, that Maximus was still watching him with the cold and calculating eyes that Commodus hated so – ones he had long ago learned hid a variety of strengths and weaknesses.

"Was it worth it?" the older man suddenly asked.

Anger flared in the prince, but it faded quickly.  Was it? he wondered.  "I don't know," he admitted.  But he continued without knowing why.  "I'd die for Rome, you know."

"So would I."

Too bad you couldn't, the nasty side of him almost jeered, but Commodus was glad that he did not say it.  A part of him had to respect the simple courage in Maximus' words.  He nearly had, the prisoner knew.  More than once.  "I do love Rome," he said quietly.  "No matter what you think of me."

"I never though you did not," his brother-in-law replied.  

"You just think that I'd kill her."  It wasn't a question; after all this time, Commodus knew what Maximus thought of his ability to rule.

The emperor was silent for a long moment, and when he finally spoke, his words were heavy.  "I did not become emperor just to spite you, Commodus," Maximus said.  "I know we were always rivals, right from the beginning – but I did not want this.  And no one was more shocked than I when your father asked me to do so."

"I believe you," Commodus whispered, knowing an old and familiar pain.  He had never been worthy of his father, but Maximus had always been.  "But why not me?"

"Your father feared for his dream," was the truthful reply, and Commodus sensed that Maximus saw his pain, but the next words came bitterly.

"He hated me."

"No he did not," Maximus replied softly.  "He loved you very much, actually.  But he never knew how to show it."

Despite the emperor's compassion – an emotion Commodus was unfamiliar with, coming from his old enemy – he could not help but be hurt.  "He never had that problem with you."

The other swallowed.  "He and I were much alike, and he had no expectations for me.  You, he never understood."

He had to look away.  It was almost too much, hearing this now, when it was too late.  He'd been lonely ever since his mother died, so many years ago…and though this conversation could change nothing, perhaps it could ease both their minds.  Maximus continued, though.  "I will not apologize for the bond I shared with him…But I will say that I am sorry that you could not share it."

"I suppose that means something," the former prince replied.  "Somewhere."  He looked at the older man, again, and realized that had times been a little different, he and Maximus might have loved each other as brothers, rather than being divided by animosity.  "Do you hate me?"

"No," the emperor said quietly.  "I would like to, at times.  You had my son killed…" Maximus trailed off momentarily, and Commodus thought he saw the legendary self-control crack, but the emotion, if it was ever there at all, passed quickly.  "But maybe that's why you and I are different.  I no longer believe in revenge."  The prince could hear the unspoken words, It hurts too much.

"So why have me executed?"  It was an idle question, really.  Commodus knew the answer.

"You committed treason against Rome, Commodus," the former general replied.  "And so it ends."

"So it ends?"

"Rome needs peace, not civil war.  And so does my family."

Lucilla.  The thought was like a sucker punch in the stomach.  "I've hurt her deeply, haven't I?"

"Yes."

"I never meant to.  Or at least, not really."  Of all realities in a shallow world, he did love his sister.  She'd been all there was to his life for so long, yet in the end, even Lucilla turned against him.  A little voice in his mind whispered the reason that he had always known.  Because I made her choose between Father and me.  I made her choose between her husband and me.  And I made her choose between Rome and me.

"Tell her that, not me."  The coldness was returning, now, and Commodus really couldn't blame the man.  He had hurt him, as well, and though he had meant to, that didn't make it right.  Not now – and, faced with death, such things as power really seemed trivial.  

He hardly dared to ask.  "Can I?"

"She will come."

"I don't deserve that," he whispered.  I wish things could be like they once were, he didn't add, but the meaning was the same.  The sorrow in the depths of his heart would remain until his death, and so would the longing for something different.

"No, you don't," Maximus agreed.  "But she is your sister."

"And she's always been there for me," Commodus finished the feeling he knew Maximus meant but would not say.  "Even when she should not have been."

"Yes."  The emperor looked him in the eye, then.  "But don't delude yourself Commodus.  It ends here."

The younger man swallowed hard.  So like Maximus, it was, to squash hope just when his heart started to sing… Yet the man was right to do so.  He had every right.  It ends here…


	8. Driving On

We Live in the Hearts of those We Leave Behind 

Please review this!

Robin 

madwookie@prodigy.net

www.felixlegions.com 

Chapter Seven: Driving ON 

            I think I'm too drained to hate.  Maybe it's too son – this has all happened so fast.  Though I know I'm not nearly so good a man as you; I'm not too good to hate.  Not even so good as not to feel it in a burning and all consuming way.  I know this; it's happened before.  I cannot ever forgive him, so I think that the hate will come later.  I know it will come strong.  But right now all I can feel is sorrow.

            Is that why I did what I did – merely because I am overcome with sorrow?  Or did I do it to prove that I am a better man that Commodus?  Did I do it to show him that I will never be consumed by my hatred, as he once was?  Or maybe I acted simply to prove that I could.  Any of those reasons could be the case, but inside, I think I know the truth.  I showed him compassion because he was your son.  He could have been your legacy – he was your son.

            I miss you greatly, you know.  That's why I'm putting these thoughts on paper rather than struggling to communicate to you in some other way.  Eyes are everywhere, and as you taught me, an Emperor can never appear weak.  I learned my lessons well, and so I write…I do believe that you can hear me, though.  I know you're there somewhere.  Maybe I did it for that reason, too.  Because you're watching me, and I've struggled for years not to disappoint you.  But I'd like to think that I did it for you.

            You passed a legacy on to me, Marcus, and it was more than just Rome.  Why you, a philosopher, chose a warrior as your heir is something that generations will ponder, but I always saw your pain, and I know how Commodus hurt you.  You did not say it in so many words, but I knew.  He never became what you needed him to be, never even tried.  But you loved him, even though you never understood, and never knew how to show him.  I remember, once, how you told me of your guilt, of how you'd wished you had been a better father for him, but I don't believe for one moment that the way he turned out was your fault.  Commodus was an unbalanced man; in the end, you knew that.

            But that's not the point, is it?  I did not think I had it in me to show him such compassion, but maybe you helped me some there.  In the last year, Marcus, you made me into such a better man – a kinder one, and one far more suited to rule Rome.  You and Lucilla did that…And I never could thank you enough for how you forced us back together.  Without her, I'd be lost now.  Sometimes I think she's the only thing holding me together; her and Lucius.  You always did so much for me, and I felt an acute need to pay you back.

            So, against all my heart, I went to see your son, a man I had always hated and whom I'd done battle against for years.  From the beginning, I'd loathed his arrogance, his superiority, his cruelty.  Later, I despised the ideas he'd stood for, how the ends always justified the means, and how Rome, which I hold above all, was only an object of power.  And I did feel that burning anger for how he hurt my family – one, his sister, another his nephew…and Julius, who was cheated out of a life that wasn't Commodus' to take.

            Grief makes it hard to hate, now…maybe that's because of the life I've led.  I've watched so many die, so many hurt, and I've always dreamed of saving my son from the loneliness and pain I felt.  But now I'll never be able to do that; I've lost him forever.  It's all the might have beens that are killing me.  And I'm too sad to hate him…Or at least I was after that day in court, when I saw the insecure and lost man – a child, almost – that existed beneath the arrogance.  Lucilla told me later of how he feared the dark and being alone.  I never knew that, and was prepared to hate him until the real Commodus crept out from underneath the mask and the insanity.  In that moment, I think I realized that I needed to end it in some way other than hate.  Because I felt your pain.

            I've lost my son, but you had, too.  And I think that, somehow, I wanted to try to give him back to you.  I don't know if I succeeded, but I had to try.  And I feel better knowing that I did – not about Julius' death, but about executing your son.  It was the right thing to do, I know, but it would have not been if I had let him die without some kind of closure.  I certainly did not do that because I'm some sort of all-forgiving god – even if they were, I'm not.  My reasons have always been much simpler than that.  

            I don't write this to explain myself, because with you I rarely had to.  But this confession helps to clears my mind.  The only person who knows I spoke to Commodus before his death is Lucilla.  Anyone else would misinterpret it all; for an emperor, what I did is taboo.  Perhaps I will tell Lucius some day.  He, too, deserves to know.  

            Are you smiling at me, old man?  I can almost hear your voice now, reminding me that I shouldn't lock it all inside.  But I haven't.  I've wept.  Just not where others can see me.  What else am I to do, Marcus?  You know the rules.  I am the emperor, and now that dictates every move I make and every breath I take.  Otherwise, I'd gladly let myself wallow in grief.  As it is, I can't afford that release, nor do I think it would be good for me.  Quintus is surprised that it has not hit me harder, but Lucilla knows it has.  Only with her can I show how much it really hurts.  To the world, I must present strength.

            But to you I can say that it hurts.  To you I can tell how I wept, alone, when Lucilla lay sleeping, thinking that I finally had as well.  I love her, and I trust her, but she was grieving too.  So I let her think that I slept, and slipped away to stand on a balcony, alone, staring out at the city, and wondering if Rome was worth it.

            When I regained control of myself, I walked inside and began to write.  And I do see your frown, father, for that very act of control.  But you know me – there was but once in my life that I completely let pain and emotions loose and allowed myself to lose control.   That was long ago, though, when I was not an emperor…just a young and lonely general, grateful to have someone to lean on in a cold Germanian winter.  You were the only one I ever showed that side of myself to.  Maybe I shouldn't hide it from Lucilla, but she knows it's there.  What's more, she understands.

            Maybe that's why I'm missing you so much right now.  You were the only father I've ever known, and I could desperately use your kindness now.  I know I should let go, but it's not easy.  And it's my legacy not to feel comfortable doing that with anyone but you.

            So now I sit alone, in the dark, with only the moon to light the page.  It's bright enough outside.  I have no worries about that.  But I find no comfort in the loneliness.  I've lost my son, and I know that I will feel the pain for the rest of my days.  It will fade in time, but some things never go away.  Some things never should.  

            Sometimes I wonder why you had to pick me – or, if not you, why the gods had to detail me to such a painful life.  But I suppose it had to be someone.  But what about Julius?  What did he do wrong?  Why did he have to suffer for what I am?

            I don't know the answer to that, really.  I don't think I  ever will.  But I know what's being said about me now – a few call me callous, to sacrifice my son to Rome.  Many call me strong, but what would they say if they could see me now, tears in my eyes, writing in the moonlight?  Honestly, I don't care.  There's so many questions that I don't know the answers to and never will.              But I do know the answer to one I've been asking myself for days.  Seven, to be exact; ever since the moment Julius disappeared.  

            She's worth it.

            The dream has to be.

            Maximus placed the quill by the side of his scroll, scarcely surprised that the last few lines were blurred and malformed.  They were still readable, but barely.  For the first time, though, he recognized the warm wetness on his face and realized that he'd been crying since almost the beginning.  Without warning, a shiver snuck its way down his spine.    The presence might have been merely his imagination, but it was almost tangible.  He could feel the sudden warmth in the room, the sudden change in his heart…and the sudden need to let go, to really let go, in a conscious release.

            Letting his eyes slide shut, Maximus wept.

I am sorry, Julius…I never wanted this for you, and if I could change everything, I would.  I love you, my son.

Taking a deep breath after he knew not how long, the Emperor stilled his tears.  It was over – so many things were – and the time for mourning had passed.  He had to go on, if not for the sake of his family, for his own.  Wallowing in his grief would not heal the wounds he knew he had.  The only thing that could do that now was time, and time he had.  He opened his eyes, and glanced around the darkened room.  Sunrise was fast approaching; even now, the sky began to glow.  It was time to end this.  

But he also knew something else.  He would have done it all over again, even knowing the results, if he had to.

I am a Roman of the Romans.  I am the Emperor of the world's greatest nation.  I know no equal and I am what I am.  Above all else, I have a duty to Rome.  It is a duty of honor and loyalty, and requires that I put Rome above all.  I know what I am, and so be it.

I am Rome, and Rome will not fall.

Hesitating, he lifted the paper again, thinking to destroy it now that it had served its purpose.  Venting his feelings, although in such a quiet and unaccustomed way, had perhaps done what nothing else could.  The words he could not bring himself to say aloud came easier now.  And he would go on.  He had no choice.  Rome was eternal.

I learned that from you.


End file.
